


Born From Ashes

by HeronBlueSuccumbs



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alien Culture, Alternate Universe - Canon, Banter, Batarians (Mass Effect), Childhood Trauma, Colonist (Mass Effect), Coming of Age, Dark Past, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Music, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overcoming Adversity, Past Child Abuse, References to Drugs, Slavery, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Some Humor, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:48:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 64
Words: 95,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25793140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeronBlueSuccumbs/pseuds/HeronBlueSuccumbs
Summary: In 2170 Mindoir was raided by batarian slavers, killing or enslaving the entire colony. It was thought that the first human spectre, Commander Shepard, was the sole survivor of the brutal attack. But when evidence that his sister is alive comes to light, his world is turned upside down.Yet, survival comes at a cost. After all, heroes aren't born from happiness. And this tale delves into a dark, brutal world as we come to know the siblings who had the courage to endure and stand against the tide.A story of resiliency, determination, and romance in a galaxy of disrepair. This fic will follow our young heroes through the conclusion of The Reaper War. While main canonical events will be respected, this is not a simple retelling of the trilogy. The entire war will be rewritten in order to give our galactic villains, The Reapers, the respect they deserve.Part one is told from multiple points of view with heavy focus on Garrus as he grows from a reckless youth, to the most notorious vigilante in Terminus Space.
Relationships: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian, Male Shepard/Tali'Zorah nar Rayya
Comments: 222
Kudos: 173





	1. Introduction

Inspired by an elevator conversation in me1. Oh Garrus, with that stick up his ass…

_Wrex: So who’d win in a fight between you and Shepard?_   
_Garrus: That question smacks of impertinence. Commander Shepard is a Spectre with a distinguished service record._

* * *

_takes places in the aftermath of me1_

To most, Commander Shepard was a man to be feared. If The Alliance deployed him, you knew trouble was on the horizon. They only dispatched their best, most reliable soldier if the situation was dire and failure was not an option.

The man was well known for his victories, certainly. But he was infamous for the cost it took to achieve them. He pursued his goals with a ruthless determination that left even his fellow soldiers wary. Known as The Butcher of Torfan, Commander Shepard knew how to bring an enemy to heel. But more importantly, he understood what humanity faced as a fledgling species in a vast and dangerous galaxy. 

That is why The Alliance put his name forward as the first human spectre. It is also why Garrus Vakarian decided to leave his career at C-Sec and join the man’s crew. Shepard knew what it took to get the job done and wasn’t squeamish about following through with it. 

Few understood the demands of war. It rarely gave you the easy way out & in order to truly protect the innocent, someone had to make the tough calls. A bullet to the head ensured an end to the sadistic plots of rapists and murderers. And despite what the Executor may say, a war is exactly what Garrus felt like he was fighting and losing day in and day out on the citadel. Criminals smuggled red sand & illegal weapons tech right under their noses and C-Sec was so hobbled by their own rules & regulations, that suspects of even the most heinous crimes frequently escaped out into the galaxy. Finding out Saren had recruited an army of geth and butchered a colony while his investigation was stuck behind a wall of red tape was a bad day. That’s what stalling and paper pushing got you in the end, _**war**_. Better to eliminate the threat before it blossomed into arma-fucking-geddon. 

Shepard understood that on Torfan. And the flak the marine received from the press over the matter irritated Garrus like nothing else. Not to mention the fact that Shepard’s malevolent reputation wasn’t entirely deserved. On Feros, he went out of his way to aid the colony. And as a result, they survived a particularly vicious attack by the geth. Yet if there had been no other option when the thorian turned the colonists against them, Garrus knew Shepard wouldn’t hesitate to put them down. Thankfully it didn’t come to that but that was an exception, not the rule. 

Some just couldn’t accept that you needed people like that in the galaxy. People to do the dirty jobs.

That’s why Garrus followed Shepard. To protect the _galaxy_. And if he were being perfectly honest, to piss his dad off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I captured the true character of everyone's favorite turian here. I always felt like he really looked up to Shepard in the first game and wanted to touch on that.


	2. Par-tay

The celebration at Flux was bustling with activity. Saren was dead. Sovereign lay in pieces. And the first human specter had earned humanity a seat on the council. Tevos herself arranged a few party favors as a show of gratitude. One of the most prominent bands in Asari space was onstage offering quite the view. Noria famous for her pristine voice & figure was singing her number one hit, Everytime I Hear Your Heart Beat, while exotic dancers shimmied suggestively in the background.

Garrus wasn’t really into asari, unlike every other male, and a few females in the bar. Instead, his gaze followed his human commander as he chatted up politicians and mingled with dignitaries. Spirits, even this celebration had, to borrow a phrase from that toad Udina, “political ramifications.” Garrus found the whole display tedious and made a mental note to drag his friend from their clutches when the opportunity presented itself. He and Wrex had arranged a far better celebration down in Chora’s Den. It involved a lot of hard alcohol, strippers and zero politicians. As Shepard strode up to the ambassador for the Turian Hierarchy, Sparatus’s right hand man, Garrus allowed his thoughts to wander. There was an unbelievably hot little waitress working at Chora’s Den. She was one of the few turian females employed at the establishment. Her red plates & striking green eyes had certainly grabbed his attention. And that waist, spirits. She had a dainty waist accentuated by a cocktail dress that hugged her curves. He could only hope she was working tonight. With a little liquid courage, surely he could ask -

Garrus was abruptly (and rather rudely) ripped from his day dreams by a loud belch as Wrex unceremoniously plopped next to him on the couch and downed the remainder of his beer in one gulp.

“This has got to be the lamest party I’ve ever had the displeasure of attending. Much more of this and I’ll need to shoot something.”

Garrus groaned and took a sip of his beer “let’s try to make it through the evening without reenacting the Krogan Rebellions. While spending my evening bailing your ugly mug out of C-Sec sounds like a barrel of laughs, I was hoping to spend my time with someone of the female persuasion.”

Wrex roared in approval and slapped him on the back so hard Garrus found himself sputtering & coughing as beer leaked out his nose. 

“I was getting worried about you boy! You’re way too stodgy.”

“Wait, what?”

“You heard me.” Wrex guffawed “Alright. Let’s grab Shepard. I’ve had about all I can handle of this crap.”

With far more hustle than a 750 lb creature should have, Wrex practically bounced to his feet. Crowds quickly parted as he lumbered past the slot machines. 

“Garrus, what the hell? I thought you said he’d be waiting by the quasar kiosks after talking to Sparatus’s lap dog.”

“Uh, he was right here a couple minutes ago Wrex, maybe your breath scared him off.”

“Whatever. I’m heading down to The Den to get a real drink. Catch up with me when you two princesses are done.”

As him and Wrex parted ways, Garrus meandered around the casino in search of Shepard. Not wanting to delay the real party further, he switched his visor on and began scanning the crowd. After their encounter with Elanos Haliat, Shepard had Tali write a team specific scanner program which was subsequently installed on everyone’s omnitool. Well, except for Garrus who uploaded it to his visor. The commander liked to be prepared for everything. And in the event of a cave-in they’d have no way of identifying where their team-mates were, much less if they were alive without this software.

Liara was deep in conversation with Rita who was regaling her with tales of her time undercover in Chora’s Den. Kaiden had retreated to a dark alcove, looking rather miserable. The noise was probably giving him a terrible headache. At least Tali seemed to be enjoying herself. She was dancing like there was no tomorrow with a group of Asari & human women. But there was no Shepard. Not in the casinos. Not on the dance floor, to be fair he wouldn’t need a scan for that. The man’s dance skills were…. lacking to put it lightly and he tended to stick out like a sore thumb.  
He turned the ongoing scan towards the bathrooms and bar next. No luck.   
Shepard wasn’t in Flux. 

That was odd to say the least. They had been looking forward to some shore leave. That being said, if anyone knew where the commander was, it’d be Tali. The girl followed him around like a lost little puppy. 

“Hey, Tali” Garrus tapped the young woman on the shoulder.

“GARRUSSSSSS!” Tali clamored. Stretching her arms wide in recognition. To this day, Quarian body language made him uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to all this …. open affection she laid on every team member she was familiar with.

“Have you seen Shepard? We had plans….” 

“No Shep isn’t here. But I would love an update.” The girl swayed a bit on her feet.

“Wait, aren’t you underage? How are you getting drunk?”

“Pshhhhh Garrusss. Since when do you care about the rulesss? With that geth data, I’ve completed my pilgrimage. I just need to make it official. It’sss a dumb rule anyway. I shoot and am shot at! Anyone who serves should be allowed a few drinks.”

“Alright. Well, when he comes back let him know Wrex and I went ahead to Chora’s Den.”   
Garrus really didn’t want to miss that cocktail waitress. Tali retorted with a thumbs up before practically diving back onto the dance floor. 

Ignoring a pang of guilt, Garrus quickly made his way to the rapid shuttle terminal. Who cared where Shepard was anyway? If he wanted to miss a sweet party, it was his loss.


	3. No Rest For The Wicked

Upon entering The Den, it didn’t take Garrus more than a fraction of a second to locate Wrex. The Krogan was practically bellowing at a couple of asari dancers, attempting to amuse them with his various exploits. Well, his exploits with Shepard and a few extravagant embellishments.

“Those alliance soldiers would’ve had no chance, gurrrrrls. While Shepard was blasting that shit-eating Thresher Maw I knew it couldn’t be taken down by mere guns. It needed a Krogan Battlemaster’s touch. I shot out of that MAKO M35, and warped that pyjak right in the kisser.”

“Ohhhh my” one of the dancers practically purred

Wrex spread his arms in the exact same manner as Tali had earlier. Garrus bit back a chuckle. The unusual pair had become rather close. Tali had clearly begun looking to Wrex as a mentor of sorts, while the Krogan had an almost brotherly devotion to the small quarian. It was rather hilarious to see such a massive creature pick up a few cultural antics from the girl.

Nodding to Wrex in acknowledgment, Garrus settled into a private booth. Wrex could join him if he wanted but Garrus wasn’t about to interrupt whatever the krogan had going on. 

“What’ll it be sir?” A chipper voice pulled him from his thoughts.

Lo and behold it was the cocktail waitress Garrus was longing to see. She was wearing a lacey red top with a black skirt, mandibles spread in a delicious grin. This night just became far more promising.

Nervously clearing his throat and striking his best war-hero pose, Garrus replied “Your finest Denoviroan Ale please.” 

She quickly punched in a few keys on her datapad and tossed him a smile. “Coming right up!”

As if on cue, his omnitool chirped. Good. Shepard’s probably back from wherever he went and was about to join him. However, it was Tali on the other end.

“Garrus? Garrus? Hey, I need you to come back to the Normandy.”

“What on Palaven for?”

“It’s Shepard. There’s something wrong with him.”

“Call Chakwas then.”

“It’s not like that. Please Garrus. Something terrible must have happened.” Her voice quavered, filled with desperation.

With a groan, Garrus left as generous a tip as he could afford and hightailed it back to the Normandy’s docking bay.


	4. Dirt and Fire

The scene before him made his plates itch. He felt like an intruder in an intensely private moment. The staggering desire to flee was only overshadowed by deep concern. Still, Garrus was at a loss for words. 

The engineering deck was completely dark aside from Shepard’s flickering omnitool. Charn’s datapad rested by the marine’s elbow, giving off a soft, ominous glow. The commander was hunched over staring at something in one hand, tightly clutching a bottle of whiskey in the other. And as he brought it to his lips, Garrus caught a soft, hissing sound. That sharp, intake of breath reminded him of when Shepard took fire in a fight. Pain. Whatever this was, the commander was in pain. And more importantly, this was clearly a private moment. Garrus turned to leave, but Tali grabbed his arm like it was a life raft. 

And then it hit him. _Charn_. Sparing him was a call Garrus hadn’t seen coming. Shepard was usually merciless when it came to slavers. During their hunt for Saren, Shephard had slaughtered several criminal factions dealing in slavery. The commander didn’t just stumble into these dens of inequity, he specifically sought them out. And when their bases were nothing more than a smoking crater, any slaver unfortunate enough to still be alive was swiftly dealt with. Even if they were on their knees begging for mercy, Shepard had one hard and fast rule:

_“You can never trust a slaver.”_

He’d execute each and every one.  
Garrus didn’t have any objections. They had it coming after all.

But Charn? Shepard spared his life for mere data. “A chance to get some payback for Mindoir” is what his commander gave as an explanation. But it didn’t make sense to him; not after the lengths he knew Shepard was willing to go to, to end the slaver threat. Whatever this was, the commander did not want them to know. The desperate urge to flee welled in his chest. 

“Tali…. We need….”

But it was too late. The commander stiffened, clearly having noticed their presence. 

“Shepard?” Tali had already crossed the deck, and was reaching to place a hand on the man’s shoulder. But the human just sat in silence. This was almost as un-nerving as Saren’s mechanical corpse. Seeing his commanding officer like this was haunting.

“Whatever it is Shepard, you can tell me”

The silence stretched on and right when Garrus was certain the quarian’s efforts were futile, Shepard answered. Low and hoarse.

“I can’t decrypt it.”

“Decrypt? Decrypt what? I’m sure I can help you with it. I’m a quarian afterall, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“I think he’s referring to this” Garrus decided it was time to ‘grow a quad’ as Wrex would put it. He quickly grabbed the datapad and handed it off to Tali.

“That’s it? Oh! That’s no problem. Batarian encryption is pathetic.” A few moments of silence passed. “What am I looking for anyway?”

“A ship name, the AML Amstridian”

A few tense moments passed, before Tali announced it would take a couple hours but it was quite feasible. 

“How about I grab some dextro drinks and Tali and I hang out with you while we wait?”   
  
Shepard nodded and Garrus left for the kitchen. Quickly grabbing the bottle of dextro wine he ‘procured’ from Opold on Noveria, he returned and poured a couple drinks. After hesitating a moment, he prepared a whiskey on the rocks for the commander. The man deserved a cool drink at the very least, even if he was already half in the bottle. When Shepard nodded in thanks, Garrus relaxed. He had been so caught up in whether or not they were intruding, it hadn’t occurred to him that the commander might actually want their company.

For awhile, they sat in silence sipping on their drinks. 

  
Shepard slowly, cautiously cleared his throat “I had a sister. Jane.”   
  
Tali quickly spun her head to Garrus and they exchanged a look. Well, as close to ‘a look’ as one could get, given her helmet. They were both present when Shepard talked Talitha down. She had stolen a gun and held it to her temple, tears streaming down her face – a slave recently liberated who was snatched from his home colony. But their commander, a man they both feared as much as they respected, sat there patiently – listening and comforting the girl for nearly an hour. That was the day they both realized there was more to Commander Shepard than what met the eye. He was ruthless because he had to be. Because of what he survived. He knew the consequences of underestimating a threat. 

Tali gently reached out, placing her hand on the commander’s. “Why don’t you tell us about her? About Jane?” 

That earned a chuckle at least.

“Heh. She loved animals – always nursing injured creatures back to health. But dogs were her favorite. The Winstons lived a few doors down and had a couple collies. I’m pretty sure, if they offered, Jane would’ve disowned us all just to have one. She practically lived over there - spent hours playing with those stupid things.”

“You weren’t allowed pets?”

“There were problems with wild packs in the colony, and our mom was pretty frightened of dogs as a result.” He sipped his drink, eyes glistening, lost in the past. “It didn’t last though. Jane wound up finding some filthy mutt in one of our irrigation ditches. He’d broken his leg and that girl, well, she couldn’t leave an animal in pain. To this day, I still don’t know how, but she somehow managed to sneak him into the house and hid him under her bed long enough for his leg to heal.” Shepard drained his drink and Garrus grabbed a few more ice cubes before replenishing the cup. 

“Why’s that so surprising?” Tali inquired clearly grateful Shepard was opening up

“Haha. That thing was massive! And Jane? She was tiny – and I mean tiny. God, she was a shrimp. Fearless though. One time this jackass was coming on strong to an older girl she idolized – the guy wouldn’t take no for an answer. Jane snuck around behind him and kicked him right in the balls.”

It was Garrus who spoke up this time “She sounds like quite the sister.”

“She was.”

Silence ensued for awhile. Shepard seemed lost in thought, staring absently into the mass effect core. Eventually, Tali interrupted the quiet “So what happened with the dog?”

“Huh? Oh right. We had an attack by Barachi one night – they’re wildlife, native to Mindoir. If I had a comparison, well, I guess they’d be a bit like a cross between a lion and a hyena.”

Both the dextros snorted. 

“Yeah. Shepard we’re not that familiar with earth wildlife.” Garrus replied

“They’re predators. Travel in small packs. Alone, they’re not too frightening for a grown man. But a pack? That’s trouble.” “They were after our sheep. Dad and I grabbed the guns but one already had a lamb by throat. And out of nowhere Jane came running out of the house, screaming at the Barachi to let go of Ranger.”

“Ranger?”

“She named all the farm animals.” Shepard rolled his eyes “Well one of the Barachi started stalking Jane. Like I said, she was small. And prey. That mutt flew into the fray and ripped the Barachi’s throat out. Then he turned and fended off the rest of the pack, wouldn’t let any of ‘em near Jane.”

“Why didn’t you just shoot them?”

“We were _farmers_ Garrus. My definition of a clear shot back then was fairly narrow. There was no way to pick off the Barachi without potentially hitting Jane.”

Garrus winced. It was easy to forget that not all civilizations were militaristic like his. Palaven had very few true civilians. Unless you had a disability, boot camp was mandatory at fifteen.

“Top off your drink?” Garrus offered as he didn’t really know what else to say  
“That thing was the filthiest, ugliest excuse for a dog imaginable. But they let her keep the mutt after that. She got one hell of a spanking for running off like that though” Shepard chuckled and offered up his mug for refill.

“That’s a really cute story.” Tali piped up 

The sound that escaped Shepard this time didn’t hold a hint of humor. It was a low, bitter laugh.  
“When the batarians hit she was out in the cornfields, playing with that stupid dog. I’m pretty sure he bit one of ‘em good. That beast didn’t go down easy.”

When Shepard didn’t continue, Tali wordlessly placed her hand on the space between his shoulder-blades. The darkness that clouded his face didn’t recede. His eyes were hard. He shook with rage.

“I failed her you know.” 

“I’m sure -” Tali began but was abruptly cut off with the wave of a five fingered hand

“My dad and I were in the barn. We had a bit of warning thanks to the horses, they started whinnying and carrying on one hell of a commotion. Dad ran for the guns – and mom. It was my job to grab Jane. But by the time I reached her, the batarians were already advancing. Gunfire started erupting all around me. I didn’t know what else to do so I told her to hide. I sent her into the irrigation ditch, told her to crawl into the ejection pipe. She was small enough to fit.” 

He paused, draining the remaining liquor before gesturing for another refill. Garrus quickly obliged. 

“I found dad at the Winston’s making a last stand. Mrs. Winston and her son were dead. Her husband was a grisled old bastard - made the batarians pay for it before going down. We somehow managed to kill the few remaining fuckers in the parlor.” 

Shepard’s voice wavered.

“That’s when he told me what they were after. They were killing the men and capturing young women and children. He was hysterical. Covered in blood. Mom wasn’t with him. It… it wasn’t hard to figure out she was gone at that point.” He brought the cup to his lips and drank deeply “But when he asked after Jane, and I told him where she was, we ran to the porch and saw four of them were searching the ditch where she was hiding. They had these creatures. Almost like hounds. My dad completely lost it. Charged straight at them guns blazing. He was tougher than I ever imagined, I’ll give him that. Took their fire and kept going. Managed to reach them and rip one’s eye out too. He gave me an opening to charge their group. The last thing he said to me was ‘save Jane son, just get to her boy, get to her and run.” A shudder passed through the human. 

“I killed one. Wounded the other. That’s when I saw her. One of the critters had clamped down on her leg and was dragging her from the pipe. I tried. God, I tried to reach her. But they caught me, took my gun, and beat me senseless. I crawled into the sewer and watched them toss her like a ragdoll into a cage.” The commander drained the remaining liquor and didn’t wait for a refill this time. He simply grabbed the bottle and dumped the contents into his cup.

“Shepard, shepard look at me, it wasn’t your fault. You were just a kid. And wounded at that.” Tali tried

The glass shattered in Shepard’s hand. “I was SIXTEEN. Sixteen. Practically a grown man.”  
Tali’s hand had slipped from its comforting position on his back and as she reached up to replace it, the commander bellowed “SHE WAS NINE YEARS OLD.”

Her hand stilled. Hovering. Before she slowly lowered it to her lap.

They sat there for what felt like hours. A cold stillness had overtaken the engineering deck. Garrus certainly didn’t have any words of wisdom. If it had been Solona and him….. he couldn’t even think about it. Instead, he focused on finishing the remaining wine. Tali had been refraining from any more alcohol since Flux and instead opted for torfa – the dextro equivalent of coffee. She was hard at work on her omnitool, assisting the decryption process. More for him, he supposed. And his nerves certainly needed it after that revelation. 

Everyone was immersed in their own world and curiosity got the better of him. Using his visor to hone in on a square piece of paper Shepard had been staring at earlier, he froze the image in place. A young skinny guy smiling ear to ear looked back at him. On the kid’s back was a small girl holding two fingers behind his head; her wide smile revealed several missing teeth. Her hair was a blaze of orange, with the same brilliant green eyes as her brother. 

Finally, a ping from Tali’s omnitool interrupted the chilly silence. She nervously cleared her throat “Shepard? The decryption is finished. Let’s see if we can find that ship.”


	5. Hope Awakened

Garrus wasn’t sure what they were expecting to find but he knew they were about to jump headfirst into a rabbit hole. He had seen a few ex-slaves from his days at C-SEC. If they were fortunate, they had merely been collared for years. If they were unfortunate, they were implanted with control chips that turned them into jibbering husks only capable of completing the task assigned to them. And he had never met one that was even remotely sane, not that he could blame them. 

He sat back, watching events unfold. Apparently, red was a rare hair color among humans. Upon hearing that Garrus internally winced, he didn’t want to know what Batarian slavers would do to a child they viewed as ‘exotic.’ Yet, it would make her file significantly easier to track. 

“Shepard, I think this is her.” Tali whipped around, her omnitool displayed a spreadsheet with slave designations, numbers, descriptions etc. “Female. Pre-pubescent child. Red hair with green eyes. Low risk. #1182. The dates match up with the raid on Mindoir. It says she was taken to Kar’shan for auction.”

“So if she’s alive, she’s on the Batarian homeworld. That’s just great.”

“Maybe. But that was thirteen years ago commander.” Garrus offered his modest expertise on the slave trade “slaves frequently change hands. At least she was labeled low risk, less chance she was chipped or forced to work in the mines as disposable labor. More likely she was sent to a brothel of sorts.”

Garrus suddenly felt a jolt of pain as Tali kicked him under the table.

“Shush you Bosh’tet! We are looking for his little sister. Shepard doesn’t need to hear that garbage.”

“Don’t worry about it Tali. It’s been thirteen years. If, and that’s a big if, she’s even alive I know whatever condition she’s in won’t be pretty. I have no illusions. At least we have a possible ID number. If she was resold, it should come up in the database. I didn’t spare that cretin’s life for a mere ship manifest. This should have the records of every slave that passed through their two major auction hubs. Kar’shan and Erszbat.”

Nervously Garrus fidgeted in his chair, catching the commander’s attention.

“What is it Garrus?”

“Nothing.”

“If you have something to say, just say it.”

“I have to ask Shepard. Why’d you spare him? Once you had the data, why not just kill him?”

“Ah. That. I thought about it. But what if she is alive and somewhere down the line I need a favor to get her out? He’s my only connection in the Hegemony.” Shepard sighed. “I’m not sure sparing him was the right call but -”

“I have something!” Tali jumped up, voice shrill. “Number 1182 female human sold in 2181 to the AML Rotund. I don’t see any other references to her but… that means….”

“She was alive two years ago.” Shepard finished. “Guys I know with Saren dead, you probably have your own plans. And my mission regarding the reapers is still ongoing. Hell, I’m not even sure where the council will send me next but I can’t ignore this. I won’t ask for your help but…”

“You won’t have to.” Garrus interjected. “For whatever it’s worth Shepard, I’m with you. Even if it means pissing off the entire Hegemony. We’ll find that ship.”

“Is that even in question?” Tali piped up

“One more thing. We need to be discreet about this. The fact Jane may be alive doesn’t leave this ship. If we do wind up raiding The Rotund, I’ll ask only for volunteers. Attacking a Hegemony ship without permission is treason. If the Alliance caught wind...”

“Good thing we’re not Alliance” Tali said slyly

“The Normandy has a state of the art stealth drive; if any ship can get us into The Terminus & help us board an enemy vessel undetected it’s her. We’ve got your back Shepard.” Garrus clapped his friend on the shoulder. 

Shepard seemed at a loss for words. After a few moments, he found his voice “I can’t say how much I appreciate this. All of this. Tali once you’ve had some rest, if you could run a database-wide search for red headed, human females that’d be great. I can’t imagine Jane is the only one and I’d like to know how many possibilities we’ll be chasing down. First chance I get, I’ll pester Anderson & see if we can’t get our orders a bit early. I’d like to get underway. This trail is two years old already, if it’s even her.”


	6. The Fire Within

The next week was a bustle of activity. Shepard was still occupied wrangling politicians as they restocked & prepared to get underway, but they had their orders. It seemed there were pockets of significant geth activity in The Terminus Systems. A more fortuitous coincidence couldn’t have presented itself if it were wrapped in a bow and handed to them on a silver platter. They were headed into Batarian space on a recon & sabatoge mission with the full blessing of The Alliance and council. Alliance ships were disappearing without a trace & despite the risk of provoking The Hegemony, the council wanted it checked out. Tali had locked herself on the engineering deck and spent days meticulously combing over the data obtained from Charn. So far, #1182 was the only female human who fit the description & timeline. It all seemed too good to be true, but the energetic little quarian left no room for mistakes and continuously checked and rechecked her work. 

Garrus busied himself helping with the installation of a few Normandy retrofits. She’d seen heavy action in The Battle of the Citadel & he wanted to personally oversee her repairs. Plus, he didn’t trust run of the mill techs to properly install the modifications he’d made to her main guns. The original system responsible for launching their disruptor torpedoes was badly damaged and The Alliance was willing to shell out the creds for not only repairs but a few enhancements. They might as well take advantage of the situation while the politicians’ gratitude lasted. 

He heard the elevator doors swish open and the commander stomping out. The man was many things but subtle was never one of them. Garrus turned to greet him as he clomped over in his combat boots.

“Bee in your bonnet?”

Shepard paused in confusion. “Where did you hear that one?”

“An ensign from the last batch of troops that passed through on deployment. And you’re avoiding the question.”

“Just Udina. That sycophant is never going to get over losing the councilor position to Anderson. He’s doing his best to make my life as miserable as possible.”

Before he could respond, Shepard held up his hand and continued. “We’re all set though. Anderson is learning how to use his considerable political force to put that toad in his place. We leave at 05:00.”

Garrus quickly looked around to check if anyone could overhear, when he was satisfied it was all clear he lowered his voice to a mere rumble. “Any news on the Rotund’s location?”

“Nothing current.” Shepard sighed. “But it was spotted about six months back when it refueled on Omega. I’m not even sure of the Rotund’s purpose. Transport? Military? Trading vessel? This is going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

Seeing Garrus’s look of confusion, the commander explained. “Another human saying – it means extremely difficult to find.”

“We’ll get it done Shepard. After saving the galaxy, a slave rescue sounds pretty simple to be honest.”

“Speaking of, I should see if Tali has any updates.” With that the commander disappeared into the air-lock. 

During the following weeks, the command deck was rife with anticipation as they found themselves hunting geth across the Terminus Systems. While the crew hadn’t been brought up to speed regarding their plans for a little side mission, Shepard had let Pressley in on their machinations. He was surprisingly amenable to the idea. ‘Slavers are the bane of humanity’s galactic existence & it was about time we kicked back’ is how he put it. However, they had no idea where the Rotund was & their mission was a priority. As a result, they were currently gearing up to take out a geth cruiser in the Hourglass Nebula. Why the menacing robots had forces outside the Perseus Veil was lost on them but it raised the hackles of the entire crew. 

“Bring us in close Joker. Quick and quiet. I want a full scan of their outer defenses and make sure we map out all their docking bays.” “Tali!”

“Yes sir!” the quarian answered

“Is your jamming program online and ready?”

“Ready for deployment.”

“Do it. And be ready. You’re on the boarding team. That goes for you two as well.” Shepard nodded to Garrus & Wrex. “We’re bringing an extra set of hands in case the geth keep Tali occupied trying to counteract her jammer. The last thing we need is for the geth to send in reinforcements. Our objective is to reach the central chamber and plant a literal fuckton of explosives. From there, it’ll be a race back to the shuttle before detonation. The ship will be ripped apart from inside. If you have questions, now’s the time.”

* * *

  
The docking tube was ominously quiet. 

“No alarms? No colossal robots? I was expecting something nasty and mechanical to jump out at us. Maybe Sovereign’s baby brother.” Garrus quipped.

“If you don’t shut up you may just get your wish.” Tali hissed

“If Wrex’s stomping doesn’t alert them, my whispering sure as hell won’t.”

“Cut the chatter and stay frosty.” Shepard snapped. “Something doesn’t add up.”

“You think it’s a trap.” Wrex stated bluntly

“I think we have precious little intel and I’d rather not spring it before we’re ready if that’s the case. We just killed their god a few weeks back. Bet they’re not too happy about that. Everyone go dark. Take cover around corners. Tali, you and Garrus are rearguard. Wrex and I will take point. Herringbone formation.”

They quickly fell in line and inched their way deeper into the ship. The cruiser’s halls were long and narrow with convex walls that came together to form a triangular arch. Tubes filled with light lined the contact points above them. Looking up had been a mistake, the odd angles made Garrus’s head swim. The layout was disorienting to say the least. But what concerned him was the lack of cover. If they did find themselves in a firefight it’d be tight.

As the hallway ended, spilling out into a larger structure; Shepard’s fist shot up, a signal to stop. Motioning for Tali to come forward he pointed to a small device a few inches from his feet.

“Some sort of sensor I think.” Tali whispered. “Orders?” 

“Disable it then see if you can determine its exact nature. The rest of you fan out and guard.”

Tali nodded. Grasping the device, her nimble fingers flew over the circular object. After a few moments her voice popped on the coms. “Disabled. It’s a simple sensor. No indication we set it off.” 

“Good. Let’s proceed. Back to Herringbone formation. Maybe we can plant this bomb without a hitch and give the flashlight heads a nasty surprise for once.”

They found themselves traversing through another narrow hallway, rife with ominous fluorescent lighting before coming to a massive, circular room. 

“This is it. We plant the bombs here, Tali arms them then we hightail it back to the Normandy.”

Tali’s voice, alive with anticipation, filled the room. “We have hostiles incoming!”

“I knew it was a trap.” Wrex groaned.

“No. Actually, it looks like this was the only room armed with infrared sensors. They picked up our heat signatures.” Tali answered. 

“It doesn’t matter” Shepard interrupted. “We blow them up either way. There are only two points of entry for this room which makes things simple. We’ll split up two and two with rear guard trading off as needed. Garrus you’re on shields. Take them down fast and hard. Tali, once they’re vulnerable, hack their friend-foe programming. Wrex and I will mop up the rest. Time to kill some flashlight heads.”

The first wave was massive but consisted of relatively low-caliber enemies. Tali crouched behind Wrex, quickly darting out to set off her malicious programming before jumping back into position. Garrus had his hands full overloading shields and sniping while he waited for his omnitool to cool down. He watched as Shepard warped a trooper and shoved his shotgun down a sniper’s throat. It was at that moment he caught a slight flickering out of the corner of his eye. He quickly turned, visor rapidly scanning and got a ping not far from Wrex & Tali’s position.

“Heads up. I think we have some Hunters.” Garrus quickly warned the team. “Looks like they’re trying to sneak up on both sides.”

Shepard paused, quickly spun in a full circle, and started shouting orders. “Garrus pop off a few rounds on my nine o’clock. Tali have your dampeners ready but wait for my signal.”   
As Garrus squeezed the trigger of his pulse rifle, two troopers previously concealed by some sort of tactical cloak appeared. 

“They have an area effect cloak. SCATTER AND TAKE COVER. TALI DAMPEN THE WHOLE LEFT HALLWAY. MOVE PEOPLE.” 

Garrus abruptly launched himself behind the central controls, it looked like a circular shaped desk of sorts with a hollow center. Either way, it was made of metal and more than capable of providing cover. With a thud, he felt Tali land beside him and he caught a wiff of melting circuitry. She must’ve successfully sabotaged their cloak. When he positioned himself & raised his rifle he could see at least twenty geth, now revealed, hurtling into the room.

“Synthetic bastards.” He screeched and let off a barrage of bullets into their mist. The first two dropped and he continued firing into their advancing line. Three… Four…. The sharp sound of glass fragmenting from bullet impacts filled his ears. Where was Shepard and Wrex? Five… Six… And then nothing. Suddenly the entire platoon vanished. 

“There are two hunters last seen at my ten and two o’clock. They’re the ones with the area-affect cloak. Focus fire!” Shepard hollered over the com.

“Negative commander. I can’t see them. Not even with my visor.” Garrus replied.

“Wrex on me! We’re going in. Paint ‘em with a warp. Be ready everyone.”

With a blast of blue, the burly man and massive krogan charged – their considerably powerful barriers absorbing an impressive amount of fire. Wrex slammed into something massive and thrust a warp at point blank range, causing it to glitter blue – the perfect target. As the krogan retreated to regain barriers, Garrus emptied his clip smack dab in the center of the hunter’s head. One down. Now for the next.

Shepard wasn’t as fortunate. His target was nowhere near its last known position and the man was flying blind. Although, Garrus had to hand it to him. He really didn’t let something as minor as an imminent and painful death deter him. There his human commander was, shotgun in one hand, holding up a pulsating shield of blue energy in the other, while continuing to charge the invisible line. 

“Warp the ground repeatedly at assumed enemy positions Wrex. I’m done with these assholes.” Shepard practically screamed in rage. 

And with that Wrex began throwing out explosive warps in every direction. As soon as one would hit an enemy, it’d splash outwards and brighten up a few more. That signaled Garrus & he’d quickly lay into them. By the time he was finished shooting one set, Wrex had already painted two more. That was the moment Garrus realized Tali wasn’t shooting. A quick sideways glance let him know she was fine but completely occupied on her omnitool, fingers frantically flying over the keys. _Damn_. He thought. _The geth must be trying to counteract the jamming and call for reinforcements. Guess I’m on my own._ The situation before him was deteriorating. Sure Shepard was a beast on the battlefield but he was drawing the fire of a full platoon of geth while Wrex painted targets for him and Tali to bring down. He took aim & squeezed the trigger as quickly as he was able 1…..2…. Without her could he really knock them all out in time? Squeeze. 3 ….4…. Damnit. Shepard was being flanked. And three troopers were advancing towards Wrex. Sure the krogan could take them but then they’d be flying blind with no idea of their enemies’ movements. Crap. No way he could take all four down within seconds. But he had to try. Unbidden, his father’s voice flooded into his head. 

_“Again, Garrus.”_  
Squeeze.  
_“Too slow, Garrus.”_  
Squeeze.  
_“I’m not doing this to punish you Garrus.”_  
Squeeze.  
_“Nothing worth having is easy boy.”_  
Squeeze.

His rifle flew from target to target. His shots lined up with astounding clarity. 

Shepard had the hunter by the throat, his omniblade out, honing in for the kill. In an instant, every unit was revealed. Finally, the last hunter was dead.

One by one the robots fell. Garrus was only vaguely aware of the world around him. He heard a roar and spotted Shepard launching himself into a group of troopers. His biotic shield toppled them and Garrus granted them each a swift death. The world outside this moment disappeared. It was just him and the geth now. When one bulb shattered & went dark his rifle swung to the next. But with each dimmed light it felt like two more replaced it. They jumped from the ceiling. They poured through the door. Wrex was wielding an inactive trooper like a hammer and smashing it against oncoming geth. They shattered under the krogan’s massive weight, but he was about to be overwhelmed.

Sapper above.  
Squeeze.  
_“Again. Garrus. We’ll be here until you do it right.”_  
Trooper ontop of Wrex.  
Squeeze  
_“Get up Garrus and go again.”_  
Squeeze  
_“Three out of four targets!? Put some effort in boy!”_  
Squeeze  
_“Not good enough.”_  
Squeeze

Finally, the last geth dropped and Garrus fell back against a cool metal wall panting. 

“Everyone alright?” Shepard shouted as he turned to check on his squad. Wrex was pulling himself up & out of a pile of geth but seemed otherwise unharmed. Tali gave a quick ‘aye aye’ before returning to her omnitool.

“Tali...” Shepard started

“One second commander. The geth have been trying to counteract the jamming signal. I’m almost finished with their latest attack on my firewalls.”

“Yeah I figured the assholes were up to something.”

“Aaaaand done.”

“Do you see any movement back the way we came?”

“No.” She answered. “But if the geth have platforms elsewhere on the ship they could download into them in an instant. They’re still trying to counteract my signal as well but they’re becoming sluggish. Their response time has decreased dramatically.”

“Meaning they’re getting stupider. So there shouldn’t be too many left on board. Alright let’s set the bombs and high tail it out of here before we blow this place sky high.” 

It took less than five minutes to line the entire room with an impressive amount firepower. Then they were racing back to the docking bay before detonation. The resistance they met was pathetic at best, and they quickly tore through the remaining geth. Before they knew it, they were back on the Normandy watching the cruiser crumble in a glorious orange-red blaze. 

Triumphant shouting echoed across the whole deck as the ground team celebrated their hard-won victory. 

“Damn Vakarian. That was some mighty fine shooting!” Shepard roared in appreciation. The man was grinning from ear to ear, looking like he had just won ten rounds of quasar in a row. “Next time we’re on shore leave, I owe you a drink … or ten.”

“It’s nothing.” Garrus huffed. “Just a little target practice. But seriously, how did you know there was an area effect cloak? One minute I spotted a pair of hunters, the next you were ordering me to shoot at the damn air.”

“It was pretty impressive.” Tali added.

“Since when does your visor miss a single cloaked hunter? The geth had to have some upgrades and a cloaking area effect made sense. Besides, every hair on my arm was on end. Something was there. Many somethings in fact. I could feel it.” Shepard grit out as if remembering the offending geth made him want to kill them all over again.

“Damn. And here I thought turians were supposed to have the most evolved hunter’s instincts.” Garrus dully responded. If it hadn’t been for Shepard, he would’ve been none the wiser to the numerous troops surrounding them.

“They’re becoming way too advanced.” Tali moaned. “First infrared sensors now this?!”

Shepard merely shrugged. “They’re in league with the reapers. This is to be expected. And we blew them up anyway. That is what I call a success.”

“That’s the spirit Shepard!” Wrex clamored. “Aw. Shit. I need a word after I clean up. Meet in the cargo bay?”

“Sure thing Wrex. Tali, Garrus report to Chakwas. You both took some fire and I want my team combat ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was my first time writing combat. Ever. It was a lot harder than I imagined. And I now have numerous tabs open regarding various military tactics. Anyhow, for those who are interested, here are Shepard’s abilities. I don’t like simply copying the game’s classes. It feels too generic & boring. Gotta shake things up!
> 
> Biotic abilities:  
> \- Shield (basically he can hold up a ‘shield’ of powerful biotic energy, which deflects projectiles. However, it drains him so he can’t keep it up constantly. It’s best used when advancing on enemy lines. He can protect himself with the shield while blowing enemies’ heads off with his shotgun.
> 
> \- Explosive Warp
> 
> \- An extremely powerful biotic barrier which he pairs with a kinetic shield
> 
> The rest are standard soldier abilities like carnage, training in every weapon type, and hand to hand combat. He is not a technically adept guy. I might add more down the line as he grows into his badassery.
> 
> Also, in case it isn’t apparent. Shepard is not romantically involved with anyone (yet.) So far he’s been a tough nut to crack. But as we can see, that wall is coming down.


	7. Providence

“Well, I have good news and bad news.” Tali stood in front of them, wringing her hands. Four days after the geth cruiser, Shepard called Garrus, Tali, and Pressley into a private meeting in the com room to discuss their ongoing search for the Rotund. 

“Let’s hear it.” Shepard sighed.

“Good news first then. I firmly believe there’s a solid chance #1182 is Jane. I’ve found no evidence to the contrary. Everything lines up. The time she was taken, physical description. Everything.”

“And the bad news?” 

“There’s another. Number 4913. She was listed as a mere sidenote, which is probably why I missed her during my initial analysis.”

“Something tells me there’s more.”

“She never made it to auction. She died enroute from starvation. That, and it looks like Batarians keep rather shoddy records of slaves sold to star ships. Slaves slip through the cracks all the time.”

“While that’s true Tali, their records regarding slaves on their homeworld are meticulous. And I believe you mentioned that 1182 was sold on Kar’Shan.” Pressley interjected. “They want to know any and all potential threats. That way they’re chipped, killed, or broken back into submission before any uprisings start. And all slaves are given a scan-able tattoo. That way if they’re returned to Kar’shan, the batarians know exactly who they’re dealing with. I spent my earliest years in the navy fighting these bastards. Plenty of time to learn how they work.”

“Well, I’m glad we brought you into the fray then.” Shepard nodded in Pressley’s direction. “Tali, send a copy of the data to Pressley. See if you can’t figure out the chances of 4913 being Jane.”

“Of course. I’m here to help Shepard. I think it’s ridiculous that scum like this is allowed to operate freely. Terminus or not, we should have burned them to the ground a long time ago. But we need to think about bringing Joker in. He’s going to find out one way or another. After all, when we locate the Rotund, he’ll be flying you lot in close enough to board.”

“And when I find a suitable muzzle, I’ll be sure to do just that.” Shepard groaned. “That man can’t keep a secret to save his life. But you have a point. He’ll have to be apart of outlining our advance.”

“Have we given any thought to our tactical plan once we find the Rotund?” Garrus had been debating various methods of approach with the Normandy’s stealth system “Normandy’s IES will only get us so far. We have to leave no trace or face the wrath of both The Alliance and Council.”

“Actually, Tali and I have been formulating a rough sketch for that.” Shepard nodded in Tali’s direction indicating she now had the floor.

“Err. Yes. I think if I upgrade the same jammers we used on the geth cruiser, I can disable their communication array. That’ll work on short range systems. The issue is, I specifically wrote it for the geth neural network. I’ll have to adapt it for batarian code before it’ll affect long range signals and I don’t have access to their systems. So, that means I’ll be doing it on the fly once we board.”

“We’d have to go in quick and quiet. Any resistance would have to be put down immediately or risk discovery. No gunfire. So long as we don’t alert anyone in the cockpit, we should be golden. Their internal coms will be down.” Shepard added.

“And after we leave? What happens to the ship? Seems a bit conspicuous to leave it hanging out in space.” Garrus queried.

A dark smile crept across the commander’s face. “That’s what the guns are for Garrus. We’ll evac the slaves & blow their ship out of the sky. When we’re done, there won’t be a single identifiable piece left in the rubble. We’re literally on a mission to investigate missing starships, most likely overtaken by geth or forces allied with the reapers. Something strange is going on. And we’ll take full advantage of the situation.”

“I was hoping you’d say that commander. I’ve been wanting to test out our new teeth.”

“I figured.” Shepard snorted. “As for the slaves, we’ll talk to Chakwas about options. Most likely, we’ll drop them off on a well-established colony world after an amnesiac treatment.”

“Now we just have to find the Rotund.”

“Actually, an agent of the shadow broker owes me a favor after I sent that Cerberus data his way. We passed a com-buoy earlier and I was able to get a secure message out. Now it’s just a waiting game. I also requested blueprints of the Rotund’s interior design. When I receive them, I’ll assemble the full boarding party and we’ll get to work formulating a plan of attack.”

“So, who’s coming?”

“The whole team. Well, everyone who agrees – this is a volunteer only mission. And I’d rather do this sooner rather than later.” Shepard paused. “Wrex has some news but I’ll let him tell you guys.”

“We’ll get her back.” Tali piped up. 

“We’ll see.” Shepard said quietly. “Alright. Great progress everyone. Tali, Garrus, dismissed. I need to speak with the rest of the team and see who’s on board. Then meet with Anderson regarding the geth presence. Pressley, assemble the whole crew in twenty minutes, including Joker. I need to have a word with Chakwas.”


	8. A Crew Like No Other

“Just to be sure I have this straight” Joker asked incredulously. “You want us to attack a Batarian ship without the go ahead from The Alliance? And then you want to blow it up before anyone’s the wiser? That about cover it?”

“Yes.” Shephard sighed

“It’s treason – a capitol offense.” Kaiden muttered.

“Butchering slavers and finishing it off with a nice big explosion.” Wrex nodded approvingly “Ah, that’s my kind of mission. Count me in.”

“I’m in too Shepard. You’ve taken the time to help each and everyone of us. It’s about time we paid it back.” Liara responded.

“I have concerns, but I’m with you Shepard. You haven’t steered us wrong yet. And I don’t think anyone could reasonably expect you to just sit on this information. I have one question though.” Kaiden paused.

“Ask away.”

“Does Anderson know?”

“In a sense. A ways back, we came to an agreement. If I were to learn which slavers were responsible for Mindoir, he wouldn’t ask me not to act. His one request was that I leave him in the dark. Neither one of us ever expected her to be alive, but I know he’d understand.”

“That’s good enough for me.”

“So long as all of you realize that while I take full responsibility, it can only go so far. If we’re caught, you may wind up court-marshaled along side me.” Shepard paused, taking the time to make eye contact with not only his squad but each and every crew member. They needed to understand the stakes, what they were risking.

A chorus erupted around him. “We’ve got your back commander.”

Wrex merely snorted. “I’d like to see them try.”

For the second time since taking command of the SSV Normandy, Shepard was moved by the loyalty with which the crew served him. The first occasion was during their desperate charge to Ilos, where they literally mutinied against the council and stole the frigate. Yet, there his crew was ready to serve, eager even. And now, with nothing to gain and their entire careers at stake, they were pledging to follow him once more.

“Joker? We can’t do this without you. But I understand if it’s asking too much.”

“Damnit Shepard. I’m with you. Hell, I know what it means to have a baby sister. If slavers had taken Hilary, I’d have chased them down in the Normandy guns blazing - with or without the crew’s approval. Just promise me you won’t get caught. Flying is all I’ve got. I’m not losing my ship.”

“I appreciate the risk you’re taking Joker.”

“Yeah whatever. So, do we have a boarding plan yet? Sure I can fly The Normandy right up next to the bastards but something tells me they might notice, given that she’s, you know _gargantuan_. The pilot would spot us instantly, as would anyone else who looked out a window.”

“I have a few ideas.” The sly look on Shepards face practically screamed trouble. “Anyone remember the MSV Worthington?”

* * *

* * *

* * *

When Shepard originally relayed his strategy, Garrus could scarcely believe his translator hadn’t glitched. 

“You saved the MSV Worthington? You didn’t report it found to The Alliance.”

“Uh huh.”

“By stowing it away on some asteroid?”

“In the Ming System, yeah. It’s not like I could jump through a relay with the council crammed up my ass.”

“How…. And why?”

“Always be prepared Garrus. For **_anything_**. Having a civilian ship marked missing by The Alliance would disguise us perfectly if need be. I figured it’d come in handy if The Council tried to pull a fast one on us while we were hunting for Saren.”

“I’d call that an accurate prediction.”

“Heh. Well, it wasn’t like I could use it to get to Ilos. But this? It’s perfect. The Batarians won’t know what hit ‘em. We’ll seem like a helpless target seeking asylum. They’ll welcome us with open arms thinking we’re easy pickings.”

“So, you commandeered a Kowloon-Class starship just in case and chose not to share this little scheme in an effort to protect us from the council’s wrath in case we used it to wring Saren’s neck?”

“Exactly. Plausible deniability. Of course, there would’ve been a high probability of being blown to smithereens, but given Saren was attempting to end galactic life as we knew it, the risk seemed nominal.”

Garrus stared at the man in front of him. The turian could only hope to be half as capable a leader as this human someday. He always thought ten steps ahead. At first, his actions often seemed insane or purposeless. But there was always an intent behind his decisions that only time could reveal.

He stared out at the MSV Worthington, now hovering adjacent to the Normandy. Despite being abandoned for months on a barren asteroid, she was flight worthy. Even from this distance, he could make out a few dents & scrapes where debris had collided with the ship. Nothing noteworthy enough to jeopardize the mission, but sitting idle on a deserted mining asteroid had taken its toll. Shepard opted not to make any repairs, the damage would work to their advantage when it came time to convince the batarians they were merely stupid merchants limping towards their doom.


	9. Bait & Switch

Garrus was sleepily shoving some pathetic excuse for breakfast into his mouth. While the taste wasn’t atrocious, the consistency was all off. Who in their right mind would eat this willingly? Personally, he thought whatever villain came up with the recipe for lumpy, gooey Nentwa should be shot in a fit of poetic justice. Dr. Chakwas had confiscated his entire stash of BlastOhs, insisting he needed more nutritious food, yet another travesty to….

Suddenly, Shepard’s voice broke over the com. “We’ve successfully tracked the Rotund to the remote system, Typhon. They’re alone, scouring the area for resources. Ground team gear up and meet in the com room. It’s go time.”

Shoving the remaining slop down his gullet, Garrus raced to his gun locker. The habits he acquired during mandatory boot camp were ingrained deeply. Every morning he woke at 05:00, slapped on his armor, and ate a hardy breakfast. All he needed were some weapons and he was combat ready.

Wrex and Tali were already gearing up, still brushing off some morning drowsiness. 

“Uhhhhhgh. Man am I regretting that last ryncol.” 

“Don’t tell me you’re hung over!?” Tali hissed. “Nothing is standing in our way today. Nothing. Not even your scaly ass. Shepard is depending on us. And no one is letting him down. Not on my watch.”

“Don’t get your quads in twist kid. Did I ever tell you about the time I slaughtered fifteen mutated klixen after drinking the entire bar? Trust me, I’m good.”

“Goddess, Wrex, really? With everything Shepard has on the line, the least you could’ve done last night was stay sober.” Liara had joined in berating the miserable krogan.

“It’s barely dawn and you’ve already managed to piss off all the women.” Garrus snarked. He couldn’t resist getting a few licks in himself. 

If looks could kill, the one Wrex shot Garrus would’ve eviscerated him on the spot.

“He deserves it.” Tali bit out before storming towards the elevator, shotgun in hand. Liara joined her with an icy, backwards glare.

“Women.” Wrex muttered.

“Yeah, well, if I were you I’d be damn careful about pissing either one of them off further. I’m pretty sure Tali was imagining blowing your head off just now.”

“I’m over seven hundred years old. So long as I do my job, my business is my god damn business. Even Shepard agrees.”

“If we got caught pulling half the crap you get up to, the commander would throw us out an airlock.”

“You’re just jealous.”

“Definitely. I want to be drunk all the time.”

“There may be hope for you yet, turian.”

* * *

* * *

* * *

The Rotund’s blueprints were projected onto the screen in front of them. Officially, the ship wasn’t marked military but she was equipped with some nasty cannons. Nothing the Normandy couldn’t outmaneuver with Joker at the helm, should she be discovered. But the MSV Worthington would be a sitting duck.

“We’re sure she won’t fire on us as we approach?” Kaiden asked apprehensively.

“Batarians never waste what they can use. They’ll be drooling at the bit the second you mention unclaimed cargo.” Pressly insisted. “That, plus the fact you’ll be presented as starving, desperate merchants – prime targets for a slave grab, makes me certain they’ll let you dock. It’ll be too sweet an opportunity to pass up.”

“Alright team. Let’s fine tune our boarding plan and get underway. First, Tali arguably has the most important job on this mission. Not only will she be piloting the Worthington, but once we board, she’ll be solely responsible for jamming their coms. That said, she needs time to bring down their long-range signals. Groundteam, your objective will be to prevent the batarians from discovering her at all costs. Tali, I apologize in advance but we’re getting you onto the Rotund via shipping container.”

“I won’t let you down Shepard.” The young quarian replied.

“I’ll be posing as the MSV Worthington’s captain. They’ll separate and detain me immediately for questioning in case I pose a threat. As for the rest of the team, you’ll be unloading the decoy cargo and Tali. Remember before we even set foot on the Rotund, Tali will have their internal coms jammed. Look for opportunities to start picking off the slavers. No gunfire unless it’s a life or death situation.” Shepard switched the projected image from the cargo bay to a sub-deck. “This ship consists of two full floors and a sub-deck, where it’s assumed the majority of slaves are stored. Remember we are here to liberate these people. It’s highly likely that the slaves will fire on us and not all will be caged below. That’s what the gas grenades are for – they consist of the same neutralizing agent we used on Feros. When the firefight breaks out, choose your targets carefully.”

“What about me Shepard? Something tells me they won’t just let me stroll on-board.” Wrex interrupted. 

“You’ll be posing as a completely wasted, half dead merc we hired for protection. I want you pretending to be passed out in the back of the ship.” Shepard paused, taking in a good wiff. “You certainly smell the part. I take it your flask is on you?”

“Yeah….”

“Keep it close.”

“No arguments here.”

“If they ask about the rest of our crew, tell them we had a mutiny over rations and some wound up spaced. Remember, the Worthington has been missing for months. They’ll expect we resorted to some desperate & brutal acts to survive this long.”

“They’ll be sure to verify that she’s missing.” Pressly added. “Be patient on your approach. They might re-confirm your story once you dock. No sudden moves.” 

“Then it’s a good thing we never reported her found.” Shepard nodded to Pressly. “Apparently, the majority of batarian pilots are the highest ranking on their ships. Meaning, I’ll most likely be brought to deck one. Tali, once you’ve jammed their long range communications, signal our omnitools. That’s when all of us turn hostile & unleash Armageddon on their asses.”

“I don’t like allowing them to disarm and separate you from the rest of the team.” Garrus protested.

“They can’t subdue biotics they have zero clue about, and I don’t plan on giving them the chance to shoot. After the pilot is neutralized, I’ll be fighting my way back to the cargo bay. In the meantime, Garrus, you’re in charge of the ground team.”

For a moment, the turian was at a loss for words. He was clearly shocked at being put second in command, usually that duty fell to Kaiden. “You’ve got it Commander.”

"Team dismissed. Meet you aboard the Worthington.”

As the ground-team turned to leave, Liara hung back with Pressly. Shepard internally groaned, knowing the asari would object to what he and Pressly were about to discuss; but he was also aware of what she wanted, and it was damn important.

“The device you had me adapt to your DNA. It’s ready.” Liara spoke softly, as if she was afraid of injuring him with mere words. She squeezed his hand in support as she passed him the small gadget.

Shepard quickly withdrew, not wanting to prolong the contact. “Thank you Liara. I uhm… well, I may not be able to recognize her.”

Pressly abruptly cleared his throat. “I’m glad Dr. T’soni is here, I feel she should be brought up to speed regarding...”

The commander’s stern glare hastily cut him off. However, it was too late. Liara had crossed her arms and looked like she may physically fight him if he ordered her out.

“We agreed Shepard,” Liara insisted. “This is too personal for you and at least one person on the ground-team should be fully informed. I’m already unhappy about letting the batarians take you willingly. What are you up to?”

“Batarian ‘questioning’ generally involves torture.” Pressly spat out.

Before Liara could so much as open her mouth, Shepard intervened. “Not only can I handle it but N7s are specifically trained for this. I know what I’m capable of Liara, please trust me. When Tali sends out her signal, they won’t know what hit them until they’re bleeding out on the floor.” 

“I don’t like this Shepard, not one bit. But I understand what’s at stake, what this means to you.”

During their hunt for Saren, Shepard had allowed Liara to mind-meld with him. He needed their Prothean expert to see the visions the beacon had so unkindly given. But it wasn’t without cost. Normally, he was an extremely private person. There was a wall between him and the rest of the world, a barrier from its cruelty. Yet, if there was a way to obscure his most personal memories during that meld, neither one of them knew it. Despite her best efforts to contain the knowledge transfer to merely the beacon’s visions, she had seen it all. The destruction of Mindoir. His desperate fight to reach Jane. His failure. 

And for the first time, he was grateful. At least he wouldn’t have to explain himself or what was at stake to her.


	10. Dare to Hope

The Rotunda lay before them, silently hovering in orbit. Her crew was blissfully unaware of the storm about to be loosed upon them. Behind him, a squadron of battle ready soldiers stood firm. Despite their beginnings, each and every one had earned his utmost respect. Their ability and skill were immeasurable. Each personally trained by him, honed into weapons against the reapers. His friends. His companions. His people. And now they were about to rectify a terrible and personal evil inflicted on his family. 

Ever since Pressly announced that #4913 couldn’t be Jane, despite his best efforts, hope trickled in from the darkness. The other girl had starved to death. And a healthy human child should be capable of surviving a month or so without food. This juvenile had died, severely emaciated, less than two weeks after Mindoir – the same length of time in which a quarian child would starve to death. Tali’s mistake had been understandable. 

Shepard slowly breathed in and out, calming the blood curdling rage building in his veins. This was the time for patience, for stone cold calculation. No slaver would be left breathing. He had made that clear to the entire team. If anyone was squeamish about executions, they were welcome to stay on the Normandy. But they couldn’t afford any witnesses. And despite his misgivings, Kaiden still chose to accompany him. That meant something, and Shepard vowed to make it count. 

But heaven help the batarians if Jane turned out to be owned by these filthy maggots. There were no measures too extreme. No lengths he wasn’t willing to go to if it meant bringing her home. 

The uncomfortable twang of his hidden grenades momentarily pulled him out of his violent day dreams. He shifted. Right. No cost too high. At least if slaves attacked him while he was alone on deck one he wouldn’t be forced to put them down. Still, this had better be worth it. 

Tali voice carried through the Worthington. “We’re in range.”

“Start hailing the Rotunda.”

“Let’s hope Pressly knows what he’s talking about.” Garrus groaned. Their absolute vulnerability made his plates itch.

“That crotchety old bastard is right so often it’d make your head spin. There’s a reason he’s my XO. Alright everyone quiet we’re live in 3...2...1...” Shepard cleared his throat, trying his best to emulate a defenseless merchant. “This is the MSV Worthington requesting assistance.”

No answer.

“Switch to emergency channels. This is the MSV Worthington. We’re in desperate need of assistance.”

A harsh guttural voice crackled over the speakers. “Acknowledged. We have you marked as Alliance. What’s your status?”

“Alliance?!” Shepard retorted incredulously. “Our vessel may be from Shanxi sir, but we’re independent merchants. We were set upon by unknown enemies, they fried our internal navigation and we’ve been adrift for months. Our ship is barely holding together and our rations are severely depleted.”

“Why should I care?”

“Sir, we have supplies – ammunition, minerals, even some eezo. In exchange for safe passage, we’ll give you the whole lot. It’s not worth our lives. And if The Alliance is pissed, they can kiss my hairy ass. Those bastards left us twisting in the wind.”

Minutes passed with no answer. They’re checking our story out, he told himself. Patience. Just a few more minutes.

_C’mon, take the bait._

Tali looked up at the commander. But Shepard just motioned for silence.

“Acknowledged. We’ll let you dock. But our pilot wants a word with your captain. Understood?”

“You’re speaking with him. Thank you sir. You won’t regret this. I’ll have my men prepare the cargo on approach. You can see what we offer for yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course, it sounds like you guys have had it rough.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” 

The second their docking chute extended, Tali leapt from the pilot’s chair and wordlessly stuffed herself into the small bin they’d set aside earlier. Garrus sealed her in while Shepard busied himself securing the rest of the team. Wrex was slumped over behind the narrow isle of faux cargo they’d piled onboard. Shepard grabbed the krogan’s flask, pouring half its contents over his hulking mass for good measure before darting back to the airlock. It opened with a hiss, revealing a batarian in blood-red armor accompanied by eight others, their rifles pointed directly at them.

“Which one of you vagabonds is the captain?’ The batarian in red was clearly in charge of this little group. He stepped forward in what was an obvious intimidation attempt.

“That would be me, good sir.” With his trembling hands in the air, Shepard strode in front of his squad. He anxiously eyed their weapons as if he’d never been at the business end of a gun barrel before. “Please, we’ve been through quite an ordeal and mean no harm. We… uhhh we weren’t expecting batarians. Independent merchants too I presume?”

“Something like that.” The squad leader answered. “Alright back up everyone. We’re just going to take your captain for a debriefing.” 

Expertly playing the part of half-starved body guard, Garrus shuffled forward to protest. “Not without me, or my…. Dammmit where’s the krogan?!”

“Drunk or dead. I’m honestly not sure.” Liara shrugged.

“Figures. When we get back to the citadel, I get his whole damn cut. That good for nothing overgrown lizard has been a pain in my ass from day one of this fiasco.”

“Seriously man, you’re worried about creds right now?!” Kaiden gave the turian a good shove.

“Considering our situation, and the fact I’m your _protection_ you may want to watch your tone.” 

“Fucking bird. The sole reason you weren’t spaced with the rest is due to the fact you’re the only one who can eat that dextro crap.”

“You don’t have the balls to try, human.” Garrus attempted to lunge forward, stumbled over some cargo and landed on his face with a nasty crack. 

“Guess you ran out with the rest of us eyy tough guy?” 

“ENOUGH.” The batarian in crimson bellowed. “There has been a great deal of troubling news with the geth since you last saw civilization. We just need to ask a few questions.” 

“No trouble, no trouble.” Shepard politely obliged, allowing them to confiscate the small sidearm from his belt. He was the only one completely unarmored. Kaiden had an ultralight projectile blocking vest on under his civvies. Liara wore an asari huntress outfit designed for stealth and recon. The shimmering ensemble looked closer to a strippers outfit than battlegear, but it got the job done. Wrex and Garrus were the only two in their regular gear, after all they were posing as freelance mercs hired to protect the MSV Worthington’s freight. 

As two guards roughly grabbed each arm and pinned them behind his back, Shepard suppressed a grin threatening to surface. This was going to be easier than he anticipated.


	11. Father's Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the story takes a dark turn. So, be warned. I’ve changed the tags and rating to reflect this. I also wanted to thank everyone who’s commented, left kudos, or bookmarked my fic. It’s exciting to see. :)

From his rather uncomfortable position on the floor, Garrus could hear the batarians chaperoning Shepard away, unarmed and unarmored. He didn’t like it one bit. But he respected the commander enough to follow his lead. With a groan, he sat upright, putting forth his best effort to look exhausted and powerless. The batarian in crimson armor and two of his lackeys were gone. Now only six remained. The ruse was working. Once they had the all-clear to board and begin unloading the faux cargo, Tali would jam their internal coms before hacking their long range signals and the slavers would be completely fucked. He’d enjoy putting them down like the worthless dogs they were.

A crackle echoed against the Worthington’s half empty halls, “The captain is neutralized. He didn’t even try to resist and just keeps asking for food. They look better fed than they are. Get the cargo so we can leave this worthless system with something to show for it.”

“What do they mean by neutralized?” Garrus protested.

“What’s it to you?! Start unloading the cargo.” One of the batarians sneered.

Kaiden and Garrus made their way to Tali’s container. The quicker they had her on-board, the sooner they could start shooting. 

Liara busied herself carrying some smaller boxes while the men lugged the more cumbersome cargo onto the Rotunda. She could easily lift the massive crates using biotics but half-starved asari shouldn’t be capable of such feats. The batarians clearly noticed and one in particular had developed a hungry look. He curled an arm around her waist, and leered at her. “Hey sweet thing, why don’t you come with me and leave these brigands to such menial tasks.” As he lead her away, Garrus felt his trigger finger twitch. Well at least he’d be getting a nasty surprise, her biotics were more than strong enough to handle one handsy asshole. And there was a far more pressing issue at hand. Two batarians had begun cracking open the crates. Thankfully, Shepard had the good sense to fill the boxes with the various mineral deposits they’d acquired in their travels but they were now focused on Tali’s sealed crate.

“What’s in this one turian?”

“Fuck if I know. I was only hired to protect this crap.”

“Hmm. I don’t like that it’s sealed. Open it up.”

Garrus shuffled forward, attempting to stall as long as possible. _Come on Tali. Hack faster_.

It was at that precise moment Wrex came stumbling out of the airlock, thrusting his flask in the air. Bits of ryncol splashed out and the krogan let out a belch that practically shook the floor. 

“Anybody got some grub?!” He continued stumbling forward, grabbed the nearest batarian and spun him around to face him. “I gotta say man. You’re the besssst. Got somethin’ ta eat?? I’ll trade yas some ryncol.” Even from several feet away, Garrus could smell the krogan. He absolutely reeked of booze.

Both batarians had completely forgotten about the sealed cargo and had spun around, weapons aimed at Wrex who took the opportunity to lurch forward, and vomit an impressive amount of yellow goo all over the floor.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” A batarian was covering his nose and mouth, in an obvious attempt to suppress his gag reflex. “I don’t get paid enough to deal with this shit. Get some slaves up here to clean this up.”

Another batarian opened his omnitool, “Hey Jorgan, we have krogan vomit on deck two. Bring up some hags with mops.” No answer. “Jorgan?”

“Figures. That lazy ass is probably sleepin’ on guard duty.” Another offered in explanation.

Finally, Garrus saw a blinking red light pop up on his visor. _Party time_. 

Upon receiving Tali’s signal, Wrex headbutted his batarian ‘pal’ and pressed a shotgun to his face. A second later, bits of brain matter decorated the airlock’s entrance. Garrus pistol whipped the batarian next to him before putting a bullet between his eyes. Kaiden had the rest suspended overhead, shimmering in beautiful blue. They hollered helplessly floating towards the ceiling as the group fired into their bobbing mass. Liara returned, pistol in hand shooting alongside them. “I’ve gotta say, killing that creep felt damn sweet.” 

“You good?” Garrus inquired.

“Of course. He was dead the second we rounded the corner.” Liara smirked.

“Alright team that went smoother than anticipated. Let’s get Tali out and make our way to deck one.”   
As they pried open Tali’s small bin, an explosion shuddered overhead.

“I take it that means Shepard is free.” Wrex snorted. 

“And we’re his back up. Let’s move people.” Garrus replied.

Shepard certainly was effective. As the elevator doors slid open to reveal deck one, the team gaped at the destruction. Bits of wires hung from the ceiling. Most of the consoles were emitting sparks. And the few batarians still alive were busy attempting to put out various fires. They quickly finished them off and began searching for their commander, carefully stepping over what must’ve been slaves given their wretched appearance. Most were human females but Garrus noted a few asari among the unconscious bodies, and all were still breathing. 

“Geez. He barely left any for us.” Wrex pouted.

“Whatever. Let’s just find him and keep moving.” Garrus retorted. “Oh, and someone put out those fires before the flames hit something explosive.”

Once the fires were taken care of, they quickly located Shepard in the cockpit scrounging around on the floor for something. 

“Everything good commander?” Garrus found his behavior a bit peculiar.

“I’m fine. They took a couple of my molars. I figured Chakwas would give me hell if I came back without them.” As he let a wide grin spread across his face, a bit of blood dribbled out. “Aha! Gotcha!” He rose, triumphantly holding up a small white tooth. Garrus would never understand how humans ate meat with such blunt little objects.

“I’ve gotta say Shepard, I was expecting more resistance.”

The commander’s face turned hard. “These pathetic excuses for sapient beings run this ship with mainly slave labor. And as you can see, they mostly use half-starved human women. Our females aren’t as physically adept and given how thin they are I doubt those assholes were used to fighting, well, anything.”

“I’m guessing the slaves resisted? Should we have our grenades ready?”

“Yeah…. they’re… they’re all chipped.”

Liara strode forward, attempting to place a comforting hand on Shepard’s shoulder. But the man withdrew immediately. “Let’s move. According to what I overheard there are only a handful of guards on the sub-deck. I’ve already scanned the slaves here.”

* * *

* * *

* * *

The scene before them was gruesome to say the least. After the attack on the citadel, Garrus was no stranger to dead civilians. But seeing live women and children caged like animals was another story. The second they reached the sub-deck, he had to brace himself against the smell alone. A wretched odor greeted them, the stink of unwashed bodies and infected wounds. But no guards, which he found peculiar. That was until he heard a soft whimpering sound coming from an area of the sub-deck the darkness obscured. As Shepard marched forward towards the sound, the squad quickly parted to let him pass. He returned dragging a half-naked batarian by the neck whose dick flopping about helplessly. The commander whipped out his shotgun, pressed it to the creature’s balls, and pulled the trigger. As the batarian shrieked and struggled on the ground, even Kaiden didn’t protest. Instead, the man moved forward with a determination that Garrus had never seen in him before. He bioticially pulled two more batarians out from the darkness and shot them in the head.

“And The Alliance just allows this?!” Kaiden hissed and shook with rage. “This is an act of war if I ever saw one.”

“Spread out and check our perimeter.” Shepard, cool as a cucumber, said. “Let’s make sure no more batarians are hiding down here. I don’t want any surprises when we open the cages.”

Garrus found a single batarian, naked as the day he was born, futilely trying to hide under a makeshift bed. Before he could lift his gun and eliminate the man, Kaiden strode over and asked for permission. “Vakarian…. I… I was the one who gave Shepard hell over executing these pieces of shit. May I?”

Garrus shrugged and moved out of the way. The shot echoed off the walls as the biotic eliminated the last slaver on the Rotund.

“Liara?” Shepard called into the darkness. “I think you should be the one to approach the cages. There were some asari slaves on deck one. They’ll probably be terrified of me. And I have no idea if they’ve ever encountered other aliens besides batarians. The rest of you, could you see about turning on some damn lights?”

Tali switched on her omnitool and with a few presses activated a cluster of crude overhead bulbs. The slaves cried out and huddled against their cages’ furthest wall. 

“Please,” Liara stepped forward, placing her hands in front of her in a placating manner. “We’re here to help. We won’t hurt you.” If the slaves understood her, they gave no indication. “I want to open your cages. Will you attack us? Can you understand me?”

Still no answer. She lightly stepped forward and unlocked the first cage. Yet, none of the slaves moved a muscle or gave any indication that they could comprehend.

Eventually, Tali pulled a blanket from one of her numerous pockets and carefully approached the naked asari who was being raped when they arrived. She gently wrapped the fabric around the trembling woman’s shoulders, covering her entire body. And as she smoothly helped the blue woman to her feet, a few caged slaves slowly crept forward out of what Garrus could only guess was curiosity. _What these poor people must have been through._

The act seemed to mollify the slaves. And several more carefully tiptoed towards their enclosure’s exit. As they wordlessly lead the first ragged group of women and children towards the elevator, Kaiden hung back. “I’ll wait with those still caged. I… I’d prefer not to leave them alone.”

Shepard nodded and the elevator doors slid closed. 

It was an unusually quiet, somber group that made their way towards the MSV Worthington’s airlock. After such a flawless mission, normally they’d be enthusiastically chatting & comparing kill counts. But the dark, sinister air from the sub-deck below seemed to hang over them like a toxic fog.

Once the slaves were on-board, Shepard grabbed a few bottles of water from one of the crates that hadn’t been unloaded and held them out as an offering. The slaves however merely stood back, staring hungrily at the liquid.

Garrus was the one who found his voice first. “So, do we have any food aboard after all?”

“No unfortunately. But we have plenty of MREs on The Normandy.” Shepard answered. He was nervously rolling a small gadget over in his hands. “Tali, Wrex, Head back to the sub-deck and help Kaiden bring the remaining slaves to the Worthington.”

They quickly left, and Liara stepped towards the commander. “Shepard, do you want me to….?”

“Yeah… th-thanks.”

Liara gingerly removed the apparatus from the commander’s hands and slowly approached the band of slaves. As she held up the device, several jumped back.

“It won’t hurt. I promise.” She held what Garrus identified as an optical DNA reader, to her forehead and pressed the compact trigger. When nothing more than a beep occurred, the slaves seemed to relax. She casually made her way through the gaggle of slaves discreetly aiming the DNA reader at each in turn. When she had accounted for every slave, regardless of appearance, she shook her head and returned to Shepard’s side.

Wrex and Tali returned with another group. And the process began again. Eventually, one of the children accepted the water and as he drunk greedily, the remaining seemed to grow bolder. The Normandy crew quickly passed around bottle after bottle, patiently waiting to scan new arrivals until they had their fill.

It was a child, a small boy, who spoke first. “You’re looking for someone.” His tone was dull, hollow.

Shepard whipped around. “You can understand me.”

“Y-yes. N-not all of us have translators though.”

“I’m surprised you can speak so well.”

“I’m not chipped!” The boy yelled defiantly. “And…and... I’m new. I’m not like them… the others have been here longer.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” But when Shepard stepped forward, the boy yelped and dropped his water, spilling its contents in every direction. He whipped off his ragged shirt, fell to his knees and started frantically apologizing while attempting to mop up the liquid with his top. Looking at the boy’s thin chest, Garrus felt a surge of rage. The child was covered in bruises in various states of healing. Black, blue, green and yellow marks dotted his skeletal frame.

“No big deal.” Liara strode in front of the burly commander and knelt down to the child’s eye level. “No worries little guy.” 

Shepard retreated back out the airlock and the kid stopped crawling around on the floor attempting to mop up the liquid. But when he stood back up, he shook like a leaf.

“Do you know a slave by the name Jane?” Liara asked softly.

“We don’t go by names.”

“How about 1182?” 

“I dunno” was their only answer.

Wrex emerged carrying a few asari Garrus recognized from deck one. _Damn. They must be finished emptying the cages._ Garrus disembarked the Worthington and joined Shepard who was leaning against several stacked crates with an ambiguous expression. He figured the man would want an update. 

“So far no matches.”

“I figured.” 

“That doesn’t mean...”

“That she’s dead? Look around, they don’t exactly take the best care of their slaves.”

They stood in silence for awhile when Liara, the boy from earlier, and an even smaller child emerged from the airlock. Having regained his composure, the boy pulled the other child towards the men.

“I haven’t been here long. But she’s been here since forever.” 

The girl just stared at them wide-eyed. 

“She says you saved Terra-Nova.” He pointed at Liara, who nodded, with a gentle smile plastered across her face. “That’s where I’m from. Come on 6021, tell them about your friend.”

That got Shepard’s attention. Garrus felt the man stiffen like a board. You could cut the air with the tension that wafted off of him.

“She can talk. She’s just shy.”

Shepard breathed deeply several times before kneeling in front of the girl. “Do you know 1182?”

The girl nodded. 

“Go on.” The boy encouraged.

“She was my friend.”

“Was?” Garrus had never heard the commander sound so vulnerable, his voice cracked under the strain of controlling whatever emotions were roiling under that facade of calm. Once again, he felt like an intruder on a private moment. But he reminded himself of that night Shepard welcomed his and Tali’s company and stood firm.

“Took her away.”

“Where?”

“Dunno.”

“She has something.” The boy tried pulling at the girl’s clasped hand. She shrieked and jumped back.

“IT’S MINE. SHE GAVE IT TO ME SO I’D NEVER BE ALONE AGAIN.”

Liara quickly intervened. “Hey, hey, we’re not going to take it away. But I need to check something….” Upon seeing Wrex and Tali exit the elevator, the girl started becoming hysterical. Shepard leaped up, and quickly guided the enormous krogan and strange-suited being towards the airlock with the last of the passed out slaves from deck one.

By the time he returned, Liara was cradling the girl in her arms, humming a soft, soothing tune. The child leaned back, finally relaxing. “I promise sweetheart, we’ll give it right back. I just need to check something.”

The child’s hand unclasped, revealing a human molar. “Piece of her. My friend.” Liara gently took the tooth and handed it, along with the optical DNA reader to Shepard. “We went away from big place to here.” Her eyelids drooped, the girl was drifting to sleep, unable to resist Liara’s efforts. Garrus began wondering if the asari was using some sort of biotic lullaby as he noticed a faint blue glow emanate from the woman.

But it was Shepard who grabbed his focus, the man was stumbling backwards. His back hit the crates and he slid downwards, landing on his knees. Garrus quickly made his way over and sat next to him. 

“It can’t be. Am…. Garrus… am I seeing this right?” He snorted “Wait, I scanned it against my own hand. Of course it says positive.” Shepard offered up the tooth and reader. 

Garrus quickly snatched them both, gingerly held the small molar in his talons and pressed down on the reader’s trigger. 

_Positive Match._

_Spirit’s shit._

He passed the scanner back to Shepard, who merely stared at it in disbelief. 

“Get the kids and leave.”

“What?”

“Go. Now.”

Garrus jumped up, tapped Liara on the shoulder and motioned for the boy to follow. She scooped up the sleeping girl and they hastily made their way to the airlock. When they were back on the Worthington, Tali immediately rushed over to him. “What’s going on? Where’s Shepard?”

When he didn’t answer right away, Tali made to disembark but Garrus placed a hand on her shoulder.

“We just got confirmation that 1182 is Jane. He needs a moment alone.”

“What?!”

“DNA match. It’s irrefutable.”

“Well which one...” She spun around as if expecting to find the short, red-headed woman in their midst.

“We… missed her. She was probably sold or… spirits knows what.”

“Keel’ah. Poor Shepard.”

Wrex let out a low whistle.

If he thought the group that made its way back to the MSV Worthington from the slave pens was somber, this was so much worse. Still, he consoled himself, today was a major victory. They took out some nasty assholes and rescued at least fifty slaves. Not to mention the fact they now had proof #1182 was Jane. That had to be worth something.

Kaiden broke the silence first. “Then we’ll keep hitting these POS’s where it hurts until we find the girl, or wipe slavers off the map for good. I don’t care what The Alliance says. We never should’ve ignored this. The batarians aren’t even a part of The Citadel anymore. Why haven’t we fought back and pursued them to their own systems?!” 

“The Hegemony was a force to be reckoned with back when they were abiding by The Treaty of Farixen. The council did the same thing with The Hegemony as they did with the geth, ignored the threat and hoped it’d go away and asked the Alliance to do the same.” Garrus offered his best explanation.

“You mean allowed the enemy to gather strength while they hid all cozy like in Citadel Space. Wrex growled. “Cowards.”

“It’s been half an hour. We have to get underway soon.” Tali seemed to have found her voice. “I’ll check….” She was cut off as they all heard a commotion originate aboard the Rotunda. The sounds of breaking glass and metal beams reverberated through to the MSV Worthington.

After a few tense minutes, it fell quiet once more and the commander marched through the airlock and plopped down in the pilot’s seat, his face a dark, stony mask. “I’ll fly us back to The Normandy. We’ll have the crew swing by and pickup the resources still on the Rotund before we blow it to hell.”

“Shepard….” Tali tried.

“I’m fine.” Shepard bit out. 

“It’s not over.” Kaiden strode forward and settled in the co-pilot’s chair. “We’ll hit every slaver ship in The Terminus Systems if we have to.”

“Count on it.”


	12. A Chill on the Air

Even Garrus had to admit, seeing the change in Shepard first hand was rough. Turians were supposed to be less emotional than other species. Whether it was a product of their militaristic society drilling this into them or their biology, he hadn’t the faintest clue. Before joining Shepard, he knew humans were generally thought of as hot heads within C-SEC, wearing their heart on their sleeves. His fellow officers used to tease him about being ‘too human’ whenever he butted heads with the executor. Until that night the commander slunk away from his own party, Garrus had thought the man an anomaly; he was a better turian than himself. However, the last few weeks’ events revealed the truth. Shepard merely became what this fucked up galaxy demanded. A military man. A spectre. And a stone cold killer. 

And now with the Rotund behind them and no trace of Jane, Shepard returned to the hard, calculating man they knew during their hunt for Saren. Gone was the man who joked alongside him while sharing his wild schemes. He stopped staying up late to drink and play poker with the crew between missions. And what was he supposed to say? ‘ _Sorry your sister wasn’t on the Rotund. But don’t worry, she could still be alive and the subject of these slavers’ brutal treatment on another ship_.’ Yeah. That didn’t really cut it.

Tali and Pressly were combing over the Charn data day and night. Yet, their mutual silence and dejected looks told him they had found nothing on #1182. She was simply gone. And they had diddly squat to trace her whereabouts with.

They would arrive on Terra Nova tomorrow. And Garrus knew it was his last chance to speak with the two children from the Rotund before Chakwas administered a treatment that would cause them to forget The Normandy and her crew. The boy, Brian, had developed a keen interest in his gun collection and Garrus promised to show him a new piece whenever he had the chance. Since today was the child’s last on The Normandy, he decided to bring his most prized possession, an HMWSR Sniper Rifle gifted to him by the first human spectre.

Upon entering the medbay, Brian raced up to him practically buzzing with anticipation. “What did you bring today?” He eagerly bounced back and forth on the balls of his feet. Human children were so curious. It was incredibly endearing. Hell, even Wrex admitted they were ‘cute’ when the boy asked him if he was a dinosaur. And if so, could he please eat all the bad men. Wrex broke out into a tall tale that, in retrospect, was probably inappropriate for children. The krogan wove a sensational tale of how he feasted on roasted batarian leg. “I devoured every baddie on that ship, kiddos, poured on some pyjack gravy and gobbled them up” then he let rip a beastly belch for dramatic effect. Given what these two children endured, it was probably a god damn fairy tale to them. 

“This” Garrus laid out his rifle on Chakwas’s empty desk. “Is my favorite gun. It’s special because only spectres and their crew are allowed to purchase them.”

“Woooooow” The boy’s eyes were the size of saucers. “Those are the special ninja agents you told me about right? Like the big-muscle human who saved us from the bad men?”

“Yes. They’re appointed by the council. Their job is to protect the galaxy.”

With Chakwas’s careful prodding they had learned a variety of information from the children. For one, it seemed the slavers regularly sold off their cattle in groups. So Jane’s absence wasn’t unusual. Her missing tooth, on the other hand, was a curious story. Apparently, it was common practice to chip slaves over the age of 12 on star-ships. Any younger and the likelihood of surviving the procedure was dismal, and without the chip adults were considered too great a risk. This news, learned from an incredibly traumatized woman who Chakwas opted to keep sedated for the remainder of their journey, was a particularly hard blow for the commander. The woman suffered periodic seizures from the procedure and would need something called a crainiotomy when they arrived on Terra Nova if she had any hope of surviving.

But within a few days, when the girl began emerging from her shell, they ascertained Jane’s tooth had been removed as punishment for feeding her rations to the girl. That was particularly strange behavior for a chipped slave, and the only bit hope their commander had been granted since the Rotund. Who knew though, as the chipped slaves behavior aboard The Normandy varied from gibbering lunatics they were forced to keep sedated to nearly-functional. Clearly, the slavers didn’t bother fine tuning their brutal practice. _What a fucked-up roller coaster ride this was turning out to be._

Brian was staring up at him expectantly and Garrus shook himself from his thoughts. “How old are you again?”

“Nine.”

Turning to Chakwas, he asked “and how long is that in turian years?”

“Turians and humans have the same life span and very similar developmental stages.” Karin answered. 

“And me?” The tiny girl squeaked.

“I believe you’re around eleven sweetie.”

The female child had no recollection of a family and they were left to assume she’d either been born into slavery or captured at an extremely young age. Chakwas evaluated her thoroughly and other than a few developmental delays, she was psychologically sound. Although, her stunted growth would be an issue without an intensive nutritional regimen. Still, Garrus was impressed by the girl. Despite her background, she was incredibly resilient. That was something about humans he had come to greatly respect, their tenacity. They’d get knocked down, shot, stabbed, lose a couple liters of blood and continue to survive. Serving with them had been an eye-opener. Most turians thought of humans as fragile little beings whose skin was like paper. But Garrus had come to see that his own kind may have been in more trouble than they realized if the council hadn’t intervened during the First Contact War.

“Right. Well, when I was nine, my dad let me hold my very first gun.” 

The boy jumped and ran circles around Garrus, cheering gleefully. “Really?! You’ll let me hold it?!”

Seeing the stern glare Chakwas was giving him, Garrus held up the gun showing its empty magazine clip. “It’s unloaded.”

The gun was practically the same size, and probably weighed more than half the child’s mass. Garrus knelt down and held the rifle’s muzzle and butt so as not to overwhelm the boy under its weight as he took it into his small, scrawny arms. “One day, Imma grow up to be a soldier just like you and your friends. I’ll hunt the baddies across all of space. KAPOW.”

“My turn! My turn!” The girl bounded over, and began impatiently hopping from foot to foot. Garrus repeated the gesture several times for both children until Chakwas interrupted them. “Its time for both of these rascals to eat. They’re skin and bones and need frequent, small meals until their stomachs readjust.”

“Awww man.” The boy protested. And Garrus couldn’t help but smile a very jovial, turian grin with his mandibles spread wide. The kid’s stubbornness was a very good sign that, with time, he’d make a full recovery from his terrible ordeal.

“Now now, we all have to listen to the doctor. And I have to return to my duties alright?”

“Yeah. Okay.” Yet the kid didn’t move, instead he stood perfectly still staring solemnly at the floor. “Am I really going to forget all of you? And this? This too?”

Garrus didn’t know what to say. Thankfully Chakwas spoke up while he was staring blankly like a fool, waiting for someone to rescue him. “I know it sounds terrible. But in order for us to keep helping other people and children like you, we have to give you the forgetting medicine. I promise it won’t hurt and when you wake up you’ll be back home.” 

“Just focus on the fact that you’ll be seeing your parents soon, okay?” Garrus had verified that Brian’s family back on Terra Nova survived the raid. And he had to admit, breaking that bit of news to the boy was one of the top moments in his life. Still, this felt wrong. Before returning to his post, he motioned to Chakwas, indicating he wanted a private word. She met him a few minutes later in the mess.

“Are you sure we should be doing this? Wiping Brian’s memory?”

“It’s not like he’ll forget everything Garrus, just the last few months. Honestly, it’ll probably be a blessing.” Chakwas responded. “Look, I don’t like it either. But what choice do we have?”

“He’s been a slave at least what, eight months? You didn’t see him back on the Rotund. He was a different kid, completely terrified.”

“Hm. He stated he’s nine but my scans indicate he’s at least a few months over ten. I’d prefer not exacerbating his confusion.”

“This is a smart boy. If we help him come up with a plausible story, the treatment may be unnecessary.”

“I’ll talk it over with the commander, but I make no promises Vakarian.”

Garrus wasn’t sure which was the right call. If they opted not to give Brian the amnesiac treatment and he wound up telling the world how The Normandy’s crew saved him, they’d never be able to hit another slaver ship. Yet, thinking of that child returning to the trembling boy flipping out over a bit of spilled water gave him indigestion. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually write 2-3 chapters before posting. I like to iron out the fine details as I'm a bit of an OCD perfectionist. This was written around when I posted the former chapter. So, where have I been? Well, that's a story in and of itself. 
> 
> My husband and I live in the rural California mountains. Last week, there was a lightning storm that sparked several wildfires. We were forced to evacuate with very little notice. Luckily, I started packing the car when I saw the smoke. Even then, we were forced to leave abruptly and by the time we reached the car we could see the rapidly approaching fire. In retrospect it was a bit crazy, but we wound up backtracking for our cat who we had to leave during the initial evacuation. Thankfully, he survived the night and we picked him up the following day. He's pretty traumatized & suffered from smoke inhalation but he's still alive. During our drive to my in-laws house, we passed another massive fire. It's a bit disconcerting seeing even more wreckage after escaping a giant inferno. The whole damn state is on fire and our tiny mountain town wasn't granted the resources it needs. The fire burned through massive portions of town. So many of my friends and neighbors have been devastated. As of today, our house still exists but the firemen are exhausted. I'm not sure if they'll be able to hold the line. And we're expecting another lightening storm tonight, which may spark even more wildfires. So far, it's burned over 70,000 acres around my home.  
> And while I would never abandon this fic, my updates may be delayed. Timeline wise, this story is outlined all the way to Rannoch in ME3. But it's difficult to focus when your home is threatened and so much around it has burned to the ground.


	13. Archangel's Inception

It was 06:00 and Garrus was fairly certain Tali was about to blow a gasket worrying while they waited for Shepard to join them in the com room. Honestly, he never understood the point of allowing such a useless emotion to run rampant. When an issue is causing you distress, do something about it. The anxiety subsides with the problem’s resolution. Case closed. 

“I’m fairly certain you’ve paced enough to wear in the floor.”

His only answer was a disgruntled snort. 

A few more minutes passed, and Tali continued pacing. It was enough to drive him mad.

“Here.” He pulled out a chair and motioned for her to sit.

“I’m fine Garrus.”

“Sure. You’re fine. Whatever. I on the other hand am getting tired just watching you.”

“You’re an ass, I hope you know that.”

“You’ve mentioned it a few times.”

“Aren’t you the least bit worried about Shepard?”

“Not really. I miss our poker games though.”

“You mean your thinly veiled excuse to drink yourselves silly between missions?”

“It was fun!”

“He’s completely shut down. And I overheard Chakwas lecturing him about breaking his hand back on the Rotund.”

“How? The batarians went down easy and his hand was fine when we met up in the cockpit.”

“When he went ballistic trashing the docking area. Surely you heard it. Or are those rumors about superior turian hearing exaggerated?”

“He was blowing off steam. Can’t say I blame him. He’s pissed and going through some crap. Why can’t you just leave it alone?”

“He’s hurting. We’re his friends it’s our job to...”

Tali was abruptly cut off as the commander entered with his nose buried in a datapad. “Alright. The plan for today is a little complicated. So, I’d like to go over it with you two before setting out.” 

“Wait, it’s just going to be me and Tali?”

“Well, who did you think would be shuttling the ex-slaves ground-side? I’m too famous, I’d be recognized on the spot. Wrex would scare the shit out of the colonists. And after Benezia’s involvement with Saren, Liara is nearly as memorable as this ugly mug.” Shepard pointed a thumb to his face. “That leaves you and Tali. Anyhow, two of the children won’t be receiving the amnesiac treatment per Dr. Chakwas recommendation.” 

Garrus let loose a breath he never realized he was holding. “I take it that means Brian’s memory hasn’t been wiped?”

“Yes. Neither him or the girl will receive the treatment. Actually, Brian’s parents are planning on adopting the female child, which is ideal. He’ll need a friend to talk with about all this since everyone, including his own parents, will be in the dark regarding their rescue details. I’ve been communicating with his family via an encrypted email. I’m posing as you by the way Garrus.”

“Wait what?”

“I’ve established a cover identity for you courtesy of our old friend in STG, Captain Kirrahe.”

“No kidding.”

“Yeah. You’re Caster Surion. Ex-Blue Suns merc who left over disagreements with batarian comrades regarding the morality of slavery. You’re an independent smuggler now and have commandeered a small scout ship. For whatever reason, you’ve been using it to track geth movements in Terminus Space with your young, quarian friend. You happened upon a ship under attack by a small geth force. The geth had slaughtered the batarians and you two found the slaves caged in the hold. You miraculously escaped before the geth’s reinforcements arrived, blowing the ship to smithereens.”

“Wait, do I have a secret identity too?” Tali inquired.

“You didn’t really need a cover given the fact you’re a member of the migrant fleet and the council has no jurisdiction over you. That said, be sure to give a false name and ship affiliation. Your suit protects you from being recognized as a member of my team. So, I’m not overly concerned.”

“Faala'Vir nar Qwib Qwib. Has a nice ring to it.”

Garrus snorted. “Qwib Qwib? Is that an actual ship in the migrant fleet?”

“Yeah. My father has to deal with an insufferable admiral from that ship. But he’s the leader of the civilian fleet which is the most diverse. Plus if anyone makes an inquiry, Zaal’Koris will give them the run around just for fun. He enjoys being difficult.”

“I like it.” Shepard interjected. “Anyhow, a lie is easier to remember if there’s some truth at its core. According to Chakwas’s psychological profiles, both children are capable of maintaining our cover story. The doctor has briefed them. They’ll only have to omit a few details like The Normandy and the rest of the crew along with your real names.”

“Sounds good to me. Do you have the ship ready?” Garrus was rearing to go. This would be a fun mission. As much as he enjoyed the explosions and target practice, returning Brian to his parents and watching that girl finally find a home sounded incredibly rewarding.

“Yeah the Rotund had plenty of resources stashed away. We’ve already purchased a small scouting vessel. She’s hovering alongside the MSV Worthington. Tali is piloting and Garrus, you’ll be in charge of the mission. Better ready yourselves, you leave at 08:00. That said, the kids have taken a liking to our turian friend here and a briefing for children their age is nowhere near enough to maintain our cover. Garrus I want you to go over the details with them personally and verify that they both understand the consequences of revealing our identities.”

“Me? Seriously?”

“It was your idea. Team dismissed.” 

Tali left on Shepard’s heels, clearly intent on checking up on her commander. Garrus on the other hand merely stood in place, completely dumbfounded. Recommending a course of action was one thing. Being responsible for such a hefty decision was another. Could he handle it if the entire crew along with Commander Shepard wound up court marshaled due to his poor judgment? Either way, the die was cast. It was too late for Chakwas to administer the treatment and this is what he wanted in the first place. Now it was his responsibility to ensure Brian and his soon-to-be sister kept the truth regarding their rescue under wraps. Maybe the answer to this conundrum was simpler than he realized. Brian reminded him of himself as a boy. And he knew exactly what his younger self would have needed. 

* * *

* * *

* * *

Brian’s eyes looked like they may pop out of their sockets at any moment. Were human eyes supposed to grow that large? “This… this is for me?”

“For you both.” Garrus responded with emphasis. They were loaded onto the scouting vessel, surrounded by the slumbering bodies of 52 slaves whose memories of the past few months had been completely obliterated. “Not only do you need something to remember us by but I want your entire family to learn how to protect themselves. Now, Brian and….” He trailed off, unsure of what to call the girl. She simply went by 6021 and that didn’t seem healthy.

“Alice.” Brian grasped the girls hand. The boy was absolutely beaming with pride. “Her new name is Alice like in the book. I picked it. That’s way better than some dumb number.”

“You’ll have to forgive me, I don’t know many human books.”

“Brian says she falls through a rabbit hole with loads and loads and loads of ….” Whatever grand adventures Alice was about to depict were cut off by Tali. “Fifteen minutes until landing.”

“As much as I would love to hear the rest of your story guys, we need to go over what we’re telling people one more time.”

“Your name is Caster. And her name is Fala.. falvee?” Brian tried.

“You don’t have to pronounce it exactly right. Fala is fine. Now the rest of our story from Alice this time.” Garrus turned to the girl who was still clenching onto her new brother’s hand.

“You and Fala found us. We’ve been on this ship for many sleeps. And… you gave all the grown ups sleeping medicine because they were angry and scary.”

“We won’t forget _Caster_. And I’ll help Alice remember too.” Brian beamed. “And whenever I feel alone or scared, I’ll look at the ultra-special pistol you gave us.” He whipped out the present Garrus had given them a few moments earlier. It was an unloaded, fully upgraded and heavily modified M-5 Carnifex. “But I’m not sure my parents will let us keep it.”

“I’ll talk to them. Don’t worry about that.”

Despite the fact the children seemed to have a solid grasp on their story, Garrus had them take turns reciting it until they were less than a minute from landing. Regardless of how much he absolutely detested he notion of being responsible for this decision, his confidence in Brian was growing. The boy was sharp, determined, and clearly understood the ramifications of revealing their true identities. Hopefully, that would be enough. He could feel the ships thrusters vibrate as they approached their landing zone. 

Nothing Garrus had experienced in his lifetime could compare with the moment the ship’s doors opened to the bright, vibrant Terra Nova. There was a throng of humans awaiting their arrival, clapping and cheering. Some held up signs with “Welcome Home Brian” written in various glittering colors. But the pair at the front of the pack stood out. One was a human male with a sandy colored fringe. He was barely hanging onto a small woman as she attempted to rush straight for their vessel. She had frazzled, dark hair that stuck out at odd angles as it spilled out over a simple blue t-shirt and denim overalls. Regardless of the difference in their species, the cry that emanated from her when she laid eyes on Brian was universally understood. It could only be that of a mother’s. When Brian emerged from their small ship, the man’s resolve broke, his grasp slackened and the woman came charging towards them. Brian raced down the landing pad and jumped into his mother’s arms. Even from a distance, he could tell the woman was bawling. Her sharp, joyful sobs carried over the crowd’s cheers. 

Several medical personnel emerged from the crowd wheeling gurneys for the unconscious slaves still aboard. They began ferrying the remaining slaves out of the scout ship, not paying him the least bit of attention.

Garrus watched in silence as Brian retrieved a timid Alice who was trying her best to look inconspicuous by crouching between his trim, turian legs. The boy grasped her hand and lead her down the ramp and across the landing pad to his parents. Both adults were kneeling, probably so they’d be eye-level with their new daughter, patiently waiting for the girl to lower her guard. Finally, she leaned into the woman and wrapped her arms around her neck. 

Garrus quickly looked away. Even though they were out of earshot, this was a private, family moment. And according to Shepard, this would be their first encounter with a turian. It was easy to forget how new humanity was in the galaxy. They had been around for as long as he was alive afterall. His father was old enough to recall a time on the citadel before humans were discovered and as a result, he wasn’t particularly fond of them. He’d often lament about the ‘rabble-rousing humans’ who frequently got into bar fights or strutted about the citadel as if they owned the place. The fact it took a human who was new to the citadel merely a few days to settle in, adapt, and begin loudly voicing their opinions frustrated his father to no end. ‘Always remember son. Respect isn’t _given_. It’s _earned_ through years of hard work and a dedication to established precedents.’ That line was a favorite of dear old dad’s. He’d pull it out as some sort of life lesson whenever the opportunity presented itself. Then there were the rare family dinners back on Palaven where his father complained about them frequently. ‘It’s absurd how bossy the humans already are. They’ve only just arrived! We’re not even sure what their species is about yet and they’re demanding an embassy.’ When Garrus vid-called home to shove it in his father’s face that he not only quit C-Sec to join a spectre but a human at that, he thought the man’s head would explode. A small chuckle escaped him, remembering as his father’s mandibles took on a life of their own when he broke the news.

Suddenly, a small, five-fingered hand jolted him out of his reverie. Brian was shouting down the ramp to his parents while pulling on Garrus’s talons. “Mom! Dad! I want you to meet my friend Caster.” 

Garrus obliged, and allowed the boy to lead him towards the family. To his surprise, the woman walked right up to him without hesitation, and threw her arms around his oddly shaped, alien body. “You saved him. You saved him. I didn’t dare believe… I thought he was lost to us.” She practically choked on the words as tears streamed down her face. Before today, Garrus had no idea humans cried when they were happy. In his experience, this type of sobbing only happened when they were extremely upset or terrified like the human female whose husband had been arrested by ‘scary aliens’ or the guy whose wife was murdered during a violent mugging. He awkwardly placed his three-fingered hand on her back and patted for good measure. “Uh… it was nothing. Really.”

Then human male came up beside him and began vigorously shaking his hand despite the fact the female hadn’t yet released him. “I can’t thank you enough for saving our son. My name is Jack Hammond. This is my wife Tessa. Honey? Honey? I think he gets the point. How about you let go?” 

“Oh my! I’m sorry. I’m just so relieved. Sir. You’re an angel. An absolute angel.” The woman stood back and wiped her face.

“It was uhm… my pleasure really.” Garrus stammered. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Tali peering out of the ship’s doorway. Relief washed over him at the prospect of diverting some of the attention. “Let me introduce you to my partner in this particular venture Faala.” 

Tessa immediately rushed across the landing area and met Tali as she disembarked. Like before, she pulled the quarian into a warm embrace sobbing as she heaped praise and thanks on her. Only Tali handled the matter with far more grace, and tightly hugged the woman back. The two women seemed to strike up an immediate friendship. They amicably chatted as they gradually returned to Garrus and Jack. Tessa wanted to know every detail regarding how they encountered the slaver ship.

Garrus quickly intervened when he saw Tali struggling to come up with a plausible story. “I hope you understand miss, but … well… what we do isn’t strictly legal.”

Picking up on where he was going with all this Tali found her voice. “I’m on pilgrimage but when the geth invaded, I couldn’t sit back and do nothing. Caster here wanted to help as well so we sort of teamed up to take out as many of the synthetics as we could.”

“Technically, we’re not supposed to be hanging out in Terminus Space but we have to fund our little project somehow.”

“Sir, I couldn’t give a rat’s ass.” Jack interjected. “You returned our son. You freed dozens of slaves and brought them to safe harbor. Whatever the fuck you do is your business.”

“Jack! Language!” Tessa admonished but her words lacked any hint of anger.

“Sorry honey I got a bit carried away. Anyhow, I want to invite you to back to our place for dinner. The wife makes a mean shepard’s pie.”

“Ahem. Jack? They can’t eat our food.” Tessa strode forward. “You’ll have to forgive my husband. We’ve never met your kinds before. I looked up a few things on the extranet when you first contacted me though.”

“Oh yes of course. My apologies. You’re still welcome to come by our house. I’m sure the boy would love to show you around.”

“Don’t worry about it. And we’d love to visit. It’s been a long journey and it would be nice to stretch our legs” Tali responded tactfully. “I’ve never seen a human colony before.”

Garrus had no idea Tali could be such a smooth liar. And he couldn’t wait to ask Shepard why there was a pie named after him. What was in it? Or was he named after the pie? Do humans do that? Base their surnames after foodstuffs? It seemed rather odd. A sharp pain erupted from his right spur as Tali’s foot connected, knocking him out of his daydreams. 

“Right! Of course. I’d love to. Never been to a human colony either.”

The walk through the village was uneventful but the world around him was fascinating. Terra Nova was home to vibrant vegetation that was native along with imported livestock from the human homeworld. Golden clouds drifted across a vivid, purple sky. Flowers larger than himself bloomed around them. The blossoms had a tubular shape, their wide petals of various colors intertwined and narrowed at the stem. Several colonist had landscaped their properties with these brilliant plants, which provided shade to their various animals. Brian gleefully pointed out several creatures Garrus came to learn were cows, horses, pigs, chickens, and dogs. Now the last one he remembered from Shepard’s tale of Jane and her ‘mongrel.’ It was nice to be able to picture the animal in the story. Although, they seemed alarmingly similar to varren, the krogans’ companion of choice. That was a shocking revelation. Garrus had pictured dogs as large, fluffy creatures similar in shape to what human cheer-leaders dubbed ‘pom poms.’ Soft, like their human masters and very gentle. Yet, the animal Brian had him petting had a coarse texture that reminded him of the utensils the cook used to scrub pots. And it had long fangs that protruded rather noticeably as the animal panted.

“This is Sally. She’s a Shepherd mix. They’re cop dogs back on earth.” Brian offered as an explanation. Garrus couldn’t help but wonder why there were so many various types of ‘Shepards’ in human culture. And he could only hope that the commander would be in an amicable enough mood to explain this new found conundrum. 

“And this is my house!” Brian proudly strutted forward and pointed to a cabin. A wide path consisting of gravel and dirt lead up to the modest home. 

“What’s it made of?” Garrus wondered absentmindedly. He had never seen anything like it. The home itself was brown and constructed from thick, round beams laid one on top of the other. 

“The exterior is made from Redwood trees back home. I used Oak for the floor however. You need a nice, hardy wood to endure the beating a young boy and the dogs give it. And Redwood has fire resistant properties, so I used those logs on the exterior. My old man was a frontiersman himself. Built our family home with his own two hands in Alaska back in the day. I wanted to keep the tradition alive so I had timber imported from earth. Never did trust that prefab crap.” Jack explained.

His talons traced along where the beams had been sharply cut. A hardened, clear substance that looked similar to frozen tears dribbled down the exterior where the wood had been carved into the necessary configuration to make way for windows. Garrus could only imagine the plant life that was capable of producing these ‘logs.’ All vegetation on Palaven was a uniform silver or brown with narrow, spindly stems. Nothing grew quite so large as these beams. Tali seemed equally fascinated. She was running her gloved hands along the solid, oak door. Their hosts didn’t seem bothered by their peculiar behavior in the least and were more than happy to explain every nook and cranny. Yet the sky was beginning to turn a vibrant magenta, a sure sign night would soon fall.

Garrus cleared his throat and approached Jack with the M-5 Carnifex. “This is for Brian. And, well, your whole family. I’ve thoroughly taught him the rules of gun safety.”

The man’s eyes warily darted to his wife before continuing the conversation. “I appreciate that but he’s a bit young.”

“He needs to learn how to protect himself. You all do. There’s a gun range not far from here, I’m sure they’ll offer lessons. I modified this pistol myself. If you’re attacked again, well, let’s just say it packs a mean punch.”

“You have a point. Thank you sir. You’ve done so much for our family already...”

“So I can keep it?” Brian had overheard the conversation and immediately butted in when the opportunity was ripe. “Can we put it somewhere I can see it? Anytime I want? I promise that I won’t touch it without permission.”

“I...Of course son.”

“We’ll mount it above the fireplace and only take it down for lessons until you’re ready. How does that sound?” To her husband’s apparent surprise, Tessa rapidly agreed.

Brian strode forward and pulled on Garrus’s talons once more When the turian knelt down, the boy threw his arms around him. “I’ll never forget you Caster.” He repeated the gesture for Tali. And Garrus was fairly certain, that if she hadn’t been obscured behind a mask, he’d be learning that quarians were capable of crying in a similar fashion as humans. The family accompanied them back to the scout ship. And as all four of them eagerly waved while they readied for departure, Garrus vowed this wouldn’t be the last time he’d reunite a family torn apart by slavery. Not if he could help it. There was no better feeling in the world. This newfound sense of rightness was rare in such a fucked up galaxy. No way he’d lose that. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t left wondering whether he made the honorable choice. Not a single lingering doubt plagued him in his bunk that night. And if it ever came to it, he’d fight for the privilege to do it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I've settled into my in-laws house. All our belongings are organized. I've bought all the mundane things one needs in day to day life and I've cleaned their house out of sheer boredom. It's too early to apply for FEMA or contact our insurance since the fire is still raging. Oh! And my husband bought me a wifi adapter so I have consistent internet again. :) 
> 
> Basically, I ran out of things to do. And this is a great distraction.
> 
> I changed the title of the last chapter. This is why I usually write a few chapters ahead. I know where this fic is going but the journey takes on a life of its own at times.


	14. Just Another Routine Mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to make sure everyone is aware of a correction from the last chapter. I initially gave the surname Harper to Brian’s family without thinking. Since Jack Harper is the Illusive Man, I went back and changed their last name to Hammond.

“You owe me for this one Vakarian.” It was 06:00 and Shepard was sitting on the underbelly of his calves, his legs were completely folded up underneath him. The posture made Garrus shudder. How was it possible for knees to bend that way? “Are you even paying attention?”

“Yes sir. Sorry sir.”

“Sir? Really Garrus? Focus. Your talons will only get you so far, as I so eloquently demonstrated to Saren’s broken face. It isn’t about brute strength but knowing when and where to strike your opponent.”

“You’re not even standing si… Shepard.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake are you two princesses gonna fight or what?” Wrex meandered into the mess, which had been converted into a sparring arena. “I wanna see Shepard wipe the floor with you turian.”

“Wrex.” Shepard chastised.

“What?”

“We’re sparring. The point of this exercise is mutual learning, not fighting.”

“Come on. You could put the turian on his ass in less than ten seconds. I got lots riding on this.”

“Wrex.”

“Shepard.”

“Sit down and shut up.” 

“Now Vakarian, come at me.” Shepard ordered.

Garrus charged towards Shepard’s seemingly relaxed form. Before he even reached the commander however, the man rolled, flipped and launched himself, foot first, into his vulnerable abdomen. The motion knocked the air right out of him and the next thing he knew, he fell ass backwards onto the mats. Shepard was there in an instant, his boot hovering directly above the turian’s throat.

“Out” Shepard smirked. “Still think you’re the top hand to hand specialist on this ship Vakarian?”

“Kick him again for good measure! Show that turian whose captain!” Wrex bellowed. 

“Wrex I swear to god. Get out or I mean it you’ll be landing on Tuchanka in an escape pod I blow out The Normandy’s hull.”

“Going. Going.” 

“To be fair, that was more foot than hand action commander.” Garrus snarked from the floor.

Shepard offered a hand and pulled him up. “Alright grab those gloves and a helmet. I promise this doesn’t involve any bending.”

After that display, Garrus was certain he made the right decision asking Shepard to sponsor him. He received the letter of acceptance into the spectres’ training program a few days prior. And he wanted to learn from the best. He pulled on the mitts. They had an odd texture. Rubbery. Soft. And both the helmet and gloves had to be specially crafted to fit his turian angles. “So what did you call this form of human sparring again?”

“Boxing. It’s useful in teaching one how to make a hit count. You’re a solid hand-to-hand specialist. But not the best. You fight in the exact same manner as all turians, which is a weakness. Anyone familiar with turian military protocol knows exactly what you’re about to do and will counter it.”

“How hard are we hitting with these mitts on?”

“I want caution. No injuries before a ground-side mission. The punching bag is where we aim our heavy blows. Now, the first move I’m teaching you is ‘hook.’” Shepard oriented himself in front of Garrus. “The driving force from this move comes from the hips. And it’s a doozey. It’s a blitz attack that can outmaneuver most blocks.”

Garrus watched intently as Shepard gently demonstrated against the large, plush bag. “Remember us humans don’t have the concentrated strength of a turian. When you punch, where does the driving force from your blows originate?”

“Shoulders, chest, and arms.”

“If a turian caught me with my guard down, such a blow would do a decent amount of damage. But what if a turian who was actively blocking were to take one from a human putting their entire body into the hit?”

“Is this where you’re gonna do the monkey thing and hit with your feet again? Because I can’t replicate that.”

“Very funny Vakarian. No. Only the dominate hand connects. The power from the hook comes from the rotation of my legs, hips, and core.” This time Shepard let loose. Pivoting from his right foot, Garrus watched as the man’s body became one with itself. Fast as lightening he sideswiped the bag. 

“1421 PSI” The VI chimed when the blow connected.

Mimicking the movements, Garrus took a turn at the punching bag.

“1211 PSI”

Thinking he just landed a winning blow on his first try he quickly spun towards Shepard, with his arms above his head in a victorious cheer.

“Really Vakarian?” The commander had crossed his arms and was giving Garrus a stern glare.

“What?”

“You’re a turian. You should be doubling my score easy. Remember, the force travels through you in the following order feet, legs, hips, and core. Now go again.”

“1399 PSI”

“You’re relying on brute strength. This is a dance.”

“Fuck that VI. And I’ve seen you dance Shepard. This is a far cry from it. Although, your comparison certainly explains a few things.” After thirty minutes of re-positioning and practicing movements before turning his power on the punching bag, Garrus was becoming breathless. 

“I’m calling it. We’re right back here at 06:00 in three days.”

“Shepard?”

“Yeah?”

“Tali will kill me if I don’t ask. She’s been on my ass like a vorcha on fresh meat.”

“Spit it out Garrus.”

“You okay?”

That seemed to catch Shepard unawares. “Sorry. It’s none of my business.” Garrus quickly tried to withdraw.

“No. It’s….I’m not used to people giving a crap.”

“Better get used to it. Look, we’ve all been through hell and back together. The Normandy is like our own little dysfunctional family. And you’re the glue that keeps us all in line.”

Shepard opened his mouth several times. But nothing came out. When Garrus was certain he was about to give up. The man found his voice. “Our ground-side mission isn’t until the day after tomorrow. How about we do this over drinks?”

“You read my mind.”

One great thing about sparring in the mess was easy access to alcohol. They quickly mixed electrolyte enhancing drinks then dumped several shots of liquor into their concoctions. 

“Bottoms up.” Shepard toasted before swallowing a few mouthfuls.

“Let me show you how real men drink Shepard.” Garrus snorted and quickly downed half a liter of liquid. 

“Really Garrus? A drinking competition? No way that could go sideways.”

“Everything’s a competition. But if you’re forfeiting...”

“Hell no. You’re on Vakarian.”

They continued until each had emptied their sports canisters. Dropping all pretense, Shepard grabbed a pair of glasses and two bottles of liquor. They both inhaled several more shots.

“Ever fail Garrus? I mean really fail?”

“Have you met me? What do you think I was doing at C-Sec?”

“Writhing against rules and regulations.”

“That’s one way to put it. But in reality, I was smidgen away from being fired.”

“Your talents were wasted there anyhow. I’m talking about truly failing.”

“Right now, are you my commander?”

“We’re sitting on the floor of the mess halfway in the bottle. No. We’re equals in this moment.”

“Then what the ever loving hell are you on about Shepard? I’ve never seen you fail at anything. It’s honestly a little annoying.”

“My father.” There was a pregnant pause. Garrus remained silent. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. “He literally died to give me a chance to save Jane. And I blew it. **_Twice_**.”

“Shepard, that’s a load of shit and you know it. First off, you were facing overwhelming odds on Mindoir. And the Rotund? What could you have possibly done differently?”

“Gotten there sooner. How many side trips did we make during our hunt for Saren? A Dozen? More? Hell, I lost count. If I had Tali decrypt that data right after our mission on Terra Nova, we could have been there in time.”

“Sure. Maybe if you played it that way, you would’ve found Jane. However, The council would have known the second we reached Terminus Space and you’d have been stripped of your command and grounded before we even learned Sovereign was a reaper. The galaxy would be in pieces and life as we knew it would have ended.”

That seemed to satisfy Shepard. He relaxed and leaned back on his elbows, gazing absentmindedly at the ceiling.

“It’s funny. You can become exactly the man your father raised you to be and still feel like a complete disappointment.”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“Oh?”

“I rebelled against everything my father taught me. I’m pretty sure I started disappointing him at age ten.”

“I doubt that.”

“Then you don’t know my father.”

“This is true. Well, here’s to being a disappointment.”

“And being damn proud of it.”

They sat there for a few minutes, content with the silence. Garrus wasn’t sure what to say but found himself unwilling to lose this new found kinship with Shepard. “Hey, next time we’re on The Citadel, you up for getting a drink and shooting shit with Wrex or something? The krogan has been bellyaching about my not allowing him to use the shooting range back at C-Sec. I figure with a spectre by my side they’re less likely to arrest us both.”

Shepard knew what Garrus was up to. And maybe it was for the best. Punishing himself for failing Jane wasn’t productive. The most baffling part about the whole affair was how she was within a hair’s grasp and then was ripped away in the fraction of a second. Maybe he needed to take Liara’s advice for once and practice some self-care. If she weren’t so young and obviously in love with him, he’d be more than happy to take her up on the offer of a frolic between the sheets.

What occurred on the Rotund was frustrating, certainly, but he’d take that anger and forge it into ammunition against the slaver scum soon to be wiped off the map. And if the Alliance found out, they really could kiss his hairy ass. If it weren’t for Anderson, he probably would’ve been dishonorably discharged before he caught the council’s eye. Even at the beginning of his career in the military, he always pushed the line. Anderson was the one superior who could see past his seemingly reckless ambition. There were threats in this galaxy that called for extreme measures.

“Drinking and shooting up C-SEC? I guess I can lend my spectre authority for a worthy excursion.”

* * *

* * *

* * *

“Shepard, that last one is gonna have to be my final mission or at least close to it.” Wrex and the rest of the team were dismantling their armor, now covered in a sickening slick goo from their planet-side mission to wipe out a geth outpost. “I gotta head back to Tuchanka now that I have my family’s armor.”

“We’ll get it done Wrex. That said, Hackett needs us urgently in the Amada System. An entire squadron of alliance ships went missing there over the past month.” Shepard was peeling off the last of his gear and tossing the bits and pieces onto the workstation for cleaning. “Can you hang on another week? I promise Tuchanka will be our next stop after we deal with the synthetic boogey-men.”

“Yeah. Might as well get a few more shots in. Not like I’ll get to slaughter geth and slavers like this again. Good sport. Say, we takin’ shore leave after that? If so, I’ll hang on until we leave the citadel.”

“We’ve hit all the slavers we’re capable of for the time being. So, yeah. Looks like we’re due.”

They attacked a mining base a few weeks earlier. Unfortunately, the surviving slaves were in incredibly poor condition. All had to be sedated and Chakwas had doubts they’d be capable of fully recovering given their extensive injuries. What was shocking was that the camp mainly consisted of captive turians. Normally, the batarians abducted levo-based slaves exclusively. Yet, they found a dozen chipped and severely beaten turians working the mines. They traced them to a fast and brutal slave grab on Triginta Petra. The Hierarchy wasn’t even aware of what happened as the missing turians were assumed to have fallen prey to the planet’s barbarous conditions. Many colonist died in the wastes where the combination of harsh winds and sands rapidly enveloped bodies. 

Liara was painstakingly scrubbing grime from her favorite pistol. “Why do the geth pick the absolute worst worlds to bunker down on?”

“They choose harsh planets on purpose to lower their chances of encountering organics. It’s not like they need to concern themselves with toxic environments or un-breathable air.” Tali chimed in.

“That was a rhetorical question. Although, I suppose it makes sense.”

“We have what, two days before we hit the Omega Nebula? I vote we blow off some steam with a few rounds of cards and some hearty drinks.” Garrus was in need of a break. Between the geth and the slavers they were all working double-time. 

“Now you’re talkin’ turian.” Wrex eagerly whipped out his flask of Ryncol and tipped it into his mouth. “Coming Shepard? Even the damn commander needs a break now and then. I have some lager from Terra Nova I been savin’ too.”

“Sorry to rain on your parade, but I want everyone sharp for this. I don’t like that we have three missing ships. The geth might be gearing up for something massive.” Shepard snatched Wrex’s flask, secured the top, and sharply strode towards the elevator. “No drinking in the meantime. If you need to relax, try sparring.”

When the doors closed Wrex decided to offer his latest analysis of their leader. “Never thought I’d say it, but the commander has a larger stick up his ass than you right now turian.”

“For the last time, it’s Garrus you lug.”

“He took my flask, _turian_.”


	15. Even Heroes Bleed

There were two things Shepard should be permanently banned from, dancing and driving. The Mako’s suspension would have to be completely replaced. It was a total loss after Shepard gunned the vehicle over a cliff and landed spectacularly on a geth armature. Given their commander’s skills behind the wheel, he was certain to keep spare parts on hand. Since Sovereign’s destruction, their budget had nearly tripled. Every corporation with a pulse wanted their merchandise on The Normandy. Hell he had three different brands of suspension systems to choose from, all gifted from various businesses.

Garrus rolled over to reach for a pair of pliers. In the flash of a second, his head cracked against the Mako’s rigid underbelly before he was violently thrown across the deck. There was a sickening pop as his fringe collided with a stack of cargo. The next thing he knew, a set of strong hands were gripping his shoulders, violently shaking him. 

“Turian? Come on man. You gotta get up.”

What the hell did Wrex want? Couldn’t he even get a good night’s rest anymore? A sharp pain erupted on the side of his face and jolted him back to reality.

“I’ll smack you silly if I have to. Get the fuck up.” Wrex bellowed. 

His eyes flew open and took in the scene before him. The engineering deck was in complete disarray. Armor, weapons, tools, and pretty much anything that wasn’t bolted to the floor had become flaming wreckage. Many of the crew were racing towards the elevator, desperate to escape the chaos. Suddenly a dazzling yellow beam filled his vision, it cut through the Normandy like butter. The Mako was eviscerated within seconds. Screams began reaching his ears as several crew members from the engineering deck were boxed in by a wall of flames.

“Fucking hell. I gotta find Tali. You’re on your own now turian. Try not to die.” Without a moment’s hesitation, Wrex raced across the engineering deck’s remains and out of sight. 

“Everyone evacuate **now**. Distress beacon is live. Get on the escape shuttles immediately.” Shepard’s voice crackled over the severely damaged speakers.

No one had to tell him twice. Garrus pulled himself up and sprinted towards the evac area. Liara was assisting the remaining crew into the last escape pods. 

“Move people. Go Go GO.” Two crew members were supporting one another, limping as fast as they were able. Liara biotically snatched the pair and tossed them into a pod.

Garrus leaped into pod two, quickly activating the harness. Tali and Wrex must’ve been hot on his heels. Not even a second passed before they plopped down beside him, gripping their harnesses for dear life as they shot out of the hull at break neck speed.

“The fuck is that thing? A reaper?” Wrex motioned towards their pod’s window. A massive ship loomed over The Normandy. While it looked nothing like Sovereign, the magnitude alone was awe-inspiring. 

“I dunno. But I’d bet good creds that it was made by them.” Garrus panted.

“Did everyone get out? I heard someone screaming that Pressly is dead.” Tali strained against her harness, desperate for a better view of the disintegrating Normandy. Yet, they were already entering Alchera’s atmosphere. In a few seconds, nothing but a blazing inferno would be visible as they descended to the planet’s surface. 

“Just hang on. Shepard will take a full accounting of who’s missing once we’re on solid ground.” Kaiden grit out. His leg was hanging at an angle Garrus was certain wasn’t normal, even for super-bendy humans.

**Shepard**

Through his helmet, Shepard met Joker’s gaze. The truth crept in and surrounded him. _This is it. This is how I die._ He hit the pod’s release button. And as the cold vacuum of space swallowed him whole, he found himself thinking of Liara and all her propositions. Wondering why he kept a distance between himself and any woman who wanted more than a quick roll. What a fool he had been. His lungs were on fire. Pain seared through every nerve as he gasped for air, never fully giving in. He fought until his body went still over Alchera’s orbit. His last thoughts were full of regret, of how he died the same way he chose to live – cold and alone.

  
**Garrus**

As their pod smashed into the surface, a cloud of white erupted around them. The team quickly went to work extracting themselves.

“Of course it’s an ice planet. Why wouldn’t it be, given our luck.” Garrus whined as they disembarked onto the frigid expanse.

“You bosh’tet! Are you serious right now? The Normandy was just decimated and you’re complaining you’re cold?!” Tali screeched, still high on adrenaline. “Who knows how many people we lost! Kee’lah. Where’s Liara? Or Chakwas? Did Talitha make it out? What about Amina? Ancestors, Adams! We were both trying to re-engage stealth systems when Wrex dragged me away.”

“Relax Tali. Liara was escorting the crew, on what I assume were Shepard’s orders. She’s right behind us. They all are. Just calm down.”

As if on cue, a loud thudding interrupted the cold, empty space. The source turned out to be none other than Engineer Adams and a half dozen crew members. Tali ran over and immediately began assisting them as they limped out of their pod. Damn. The engineering deck must’ve been hit harder than he realized and his outlook wasn’t that positive to begin with. Garrus aided the crew out of a couple more pods, then quickly went to work applying medi-gel to their various wounds. Most had several cuts and bruises. A few acquired some nasty burns from falling debris.

A few minutes later, another pod detonated a snow drift. Wrex stomped over and went to work on the escape hatch. When the door gave way, they were immediately greeted by the sound of frenzied sobbing. Chakwas spilled out of the opening and was promptly assisted by the krogan, who then reached inside and pulled out the commotion’s source, a hysterical Liara. She immediately shrugged off the krogan’s grip and dropped to the ground.

“Shit. Who’d we lose?” Wrex’s voice was a low growl.

“It’s best we wait. For confirmation.” Chakwas’s harsh whisper carried across the empty space. 

“Goddess, I shouldn’t have left. I shouldn’t have left him behind. I wouldn’t have if he… goddess what have I done?!” Liara was hugging her knees, rocking from side to side. 

“Liara, come now. We don’t know for certain.” 

“I know what I saw! He died … I watched him die.”

“Pressly?” Tali cautiously approached the asari, almost as if she was afraid of the answer.

Their explanation came in the form of yet another explosion of snow. Without a backwards glance, Wrex marched forward and ripped the hatch right off its hinges. Garrus watched as his hulking frame became as still as a statue. “It’s Joker.” 

Tali immediately began running over. “And who else? Where’s Shepard?”

“It’s….Joker.”

“You said that. Who else is with him? That’s our last pod!” 

Garrus hung back, watching the scene play out before him in disbelief. He stared in silence as Tali shoved her way passed Wrex and fell to her knees. Watched as Adams approached Kaiden, with an outreached hand, an offering to help the injured biotic to his feet. He shoved Adams aside, loudly shouting that he was wrong, no way Shepard was dead. 

Chakwas leaned into the escape pod and draped one of Joker’s arms over her shoulders. She gingerly pulled him to his feet and supported his small frame as they inched out of the pod. Joker’s gaze was fixed on the ground, refusing to look up. 

Garrus rushed forward. “Joker? Joker? It’s not true is it?”

Jeff continued staring at his boots. His voice was low, raspy. “He’s gone.” 

He wasn’t sure how long they stood there. Hours? Minutes? Time seemed to stand still. After awhile, a harsh clanging of metal breaking against metal broke through the insufferable cold. Wrex had dismantled an escape pod with his bare hands. Now he was using the rebar as a blunt instrument, bashing it against the mangled pod. 

They stayed like that until The Alliance picked up their distress call and sent in the cavalry. Between Liara and Tali’s fractured sobs came Wrex’s violent outbursts. There weren’t any pods left by the time the rescue team reached them. And Garrus just stood there wondering if any of it was real. 


	16. Aftermath

At Anderson’s insistence, the entire team was being looked over at Huerta. Well, everyone aside from Wrex. No one was willing to argue with the massive krogan when he insisted he was fine and stormed off towards the wards. 

Garrus stared absentmindedly at the floor while a pair of salarian hands fussed over his fringe. 

“Can’t you just slap on some glue and call it a day?” He was exhausted, and mentally numb. The only thing he wanted in this moment was the empty void sleep promised.

“Absolutely not! Must properly restore blood flow to reduce chance of permanent tissue damage. Hold still.”

Garrus groaned and leaned forward to give the doctor better access. While the salarian dithered about with the back of his head, he heard a distinct commotion down the hall.

“I’m FINE!”

“Miss T’soni, please. You need a thorough psychological evaluation. You just experienced an incredibly traumatic -”

“Absolutely not! We’re done here.”

As Liara stormed passed, Garrus attempted to catch her attention. However, the asari only had eyes for the exit. She marched down the corridor and out of sight before his exhausted mind could drudge up a single word. 

“Finished. Here prescription for antibiotic. Take twice daily.” The doctor rushed off. Whether to address an emergency or just running from one task to the next the way salarians tended to, the spirits only knew. Garrus pulled the electronic key card out of his pocket. The Alliance was putting up the entire team in a hotel located in Bachjret Ward, time to take advantage of it.

* * *

* * *

* * *

The sweet relief of sleep was short lived. Garrus moaned and glanced at the clock. 3:21. Three hours of rest was better than none. Besides, his internal alarm clock would have him up in a couple hours anyhow. The room felt empty, dark. How could it not? Not only did they lose a leader, their best chance against the reapers, but a dear friend as well. Even now, the concept that Shepard was dead and gone seemed impossible. The man was a force of nature, an indomitable killing machine. Reality was a cruel mistress. And in this moment, so was sobriety.

 _May as well check in and see how the rest of the team is fairing._ He pulled up his contact list and rang Liara. She was taking Shepard’s death extremely hard, lashing out at everyone around her. When Anderson broke the news that The Alliance would not be issuing resources to recover Shepard’s body, the normally meek woman ended up in a screaming match with the councilor. No answer. He tried Tali next with the same fruitless result. The room’s emptiness was suffocating. Not wanting to be alone, he dialed Wrex. 

“Yeah?” Came the gravelly, brusque answer. 

“Uh. Hey. I was just wondering if anyone was awake...”

“Yeah. I’m down in Flux.”

“Want some company?”

“You drinkin’?”

“Definitely.”

“It’s all on the house.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Told Rita what happened. She talked Doran into it.”

“Be there in fifteen.”

“Good.”

Garrus jumped out of bed, pulled on a pair of civvies, and headed down to Flux without hesitation. Anything was better than sitting alone in the dark ruminating over the last few days’ events.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Wrex and Garrus sat side by side at the bar, silently sipping on their lagers. Flux was technically closed but Doran kept a skeleton team on to cater to The Normandy’s survivors. Yet another reminder that the crew weren’t the only ones mourning the commander. Everyone on the citadel owed Shepard their lives. His loss would be felt acutely throughout the galaxy.

“Got plans?” It was Wrex who broke the silence first.

“I’m staying and completing my spectre training. Someone has to step up and continue investigating the reapers.”

“Glad to hear it Garrus.”

“Since when did you stop calling me turian?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, if you’re gonna be a princess about it I’ll go back to turian.”

“Nevermind. What’s next for you?”

“Tuchanka. Still gotta head back to my clan, see if I can’t fix things.” Wrex drained his mug and waived down Rita. “Want anything stronger?”

“Think I’ll stick with beer, thanks. We have that memorial in a few hours.”

“Yeah. And I don’t plan on being sober for it. The vultures are already descending.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“Just the usual political bullshit. Shepard woulda hated it.”

“Yeah.”

Dropping all pretense, Wrex grabbed the bottle of ryncol Rita supplied and raised it over his hump. “Here’s to you Shepard. You’re a fucking jackass, dying on us like this. Don’t think I’ll ever forgive ya but you won’t be forgotten.”  
  
“Here here.” Garrus raised his mug for the toast. 

They spent the next few hours drinking and reliving their favorite Shepard stories. Already, Wrex was inserting elaborate embellishments regarding their commander’s exploits. And Garrus had the feeling that by the time he returned to his clan, Shepard would be ten feet tall and shoot lasers out of his eyes.

* * *

* * *

* * *

The memorial was a smaller gathering than Garrus had anticipated. Apparently, The Alliance was attempting to lessen the impact of Shepard’s death. To his obvious dismay, Kaiden was chosen to give the eulogy. The biotic was clearly out of his element, and continuously stared at the camera while reading a pre-written speech off a teleprompter. 

The only thing that was noteworthy at the entire affair was one asari’s conspicuous absence. When Liara hadn’t shown up, even Wrex grew concerned. Every teammate, himself included, tried to reach her to no avail. Finally, Anderson informed them that she booked passage off the citadel after being discharged from Huerta. Garrus couldn’t help but find the decision peculiar. Yet, everyone mourns in their own way. Who was he to judge?

At the conclusion of Kaiden’s painfully awkward speech, the politicians began mingling and prancing about. The entire scene made his plates itch. And Garrus found himself quickly looking for an excuse to leave. After catching Anderson’s attention and using the fact he needed to apartment hunt as justification, he quickly made for the exit. But before he reached the round about door, Tali waved him down.

“Hey Garrus.”

“Hey” He stood there stiffly, unsure of what to say.

“I just wanted to say goodbye. I’m going home.”

“To the fleet?”

“Yeah. My pilgrimage is finished. It’s time. Wrex says you’re staying and continuing Shepard’s mission against the reapers.”

“That’s the plan.”

“I wish you luck. If you ever need tech help with the geth, well, you have my number.”

“I appreciate it Tali.”

When they parted ways, Garrus had the sinking feeling that he wouldn’t be seeing the team from The Normandy again any time soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, we’re getting to the meat of the story. Believe it or not, up until this point, I’ve been writing the prologue. The first chapter I wrote for this fic will be Chapter 17. I wanted to give the characters more background before jumping in. And my one page ‘prologue’ wasn’t cutting it. Thankfully, it took on a life of its own and I really enjoyed the detour.
> 
> This is where I’ll begin introducing some drastic changes. The largest difference is the timeline. Personally, I think it takes a lot more than two years for someone to be fully rebuilt then rehabilitated. While Shepard may be revived in the standard 2 years, it would take a lot more time for him to relearn how to walk much less fight. Plus, the characters need more time to evolve. So everything, including the reaper invasion, will be delayed by years. 
> 
> In other news, I have it on good authority that my house didn’t burn down. But it’s still in the fire zone. So, it’ll be awhile before we can head home. That said, it’s a huge relief just knowing that our house is still standing.


	17. The Birth of Archangel

**Two months Later: January 2184 CE**

It wasn’t right. It wasn’t _**just**_. Garrus was fuming. Every soldier faced the grim possibility of dying for the cause – sacrificing _everything_ for the sake of the mission. And Shepard? Shepard died searching for answers about the reapers – a way to defeat them before it was too late. He not only defied orders to save the citadel but the lives of those useless councilors as well. Yet, the same asinine politicians decided to honor him by labeling him insane, ‘traumatized by the events on Mindoir’ were the words they’d used, _unreliable_. Shepard was anything but unreliable. He was immovable. No matter the odds, you could count on that man to raise heaven and hell if that’s what it took to cover your back. He never let them down. Not for one second.

 **D.E.S.P.I.C.A.B.L.E.**  
That was the one word that would describe those cunts accurately as far as Garrus was concerned. And if that wasn’t enough, you’d think they’d at least honor his efforts to rescue his sister who, against all odds, may very well be alive. But no, those pathetic excuses for leaders were more afraid of ruffling the Hegemony's feathers. How could he follow them after they’d betrayed their most distinguished agent? He shoved another pair of pants in his duffel bag. He was done. Done with politics. Done with the citadel. If one thing had become clear to him after all this time, it was that he, and anyone who actually gave a damn about the state of this fucked up galaxy, were on their own. That was fine by him. As far as he was concerned, those jackasses could kiss his leathery backside. Maybe he didn’t have the resources to explore space and reveal the truth regarding the entire galaxy’s impending doom. His friend’s mission was over. The same leaders who nearly lost their lives to Sovereign had dismissed the reaper menace. Hope didn’t live in these dismal halls. But at the very least, he could honor Shepard by slaughtering every slaver and merc who’d have the misfortune of crossing his path. Maybe free some slaves like Brian. Give people some hope. Give himself some hope before the reapers devoured the galaxy. 

His omni-tool was incessantly chiming. With a groan he answered, knowing who was on the other end. May as well get this over with.

“Yeah dad?”

“Yeah dad? That’s all you have to say to me?” The furious voice answered.

“Nothing you say will change anything.”

“Did you seriously tell Councilor Sparatus to, and I quote, ‘cram crap up his ass?!’”

“I believe my exact words were, ‘you can take your bullshit and shove it up your ass.’”

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done? You’ll never set foot in C-Sec again. Your career as a spectre is over. It never even had a chance to start.’”

“Works for me.”

“Son, what are you doing?! Do you realize you were nearly banned from serving in the turian military?! I had to call in every favor I had....”

“Don’t bother. I’m leaving.”

“You’re… leaving… to do what? Where the hell are you going?”

“I’m not sure yet. Somewhere in the Terminus Systems.”

“For the love of Palaven, what are you doing?!”

“Dad, I tried. I really did. But...”

“But what? The time for excuses is over. Once again, you’re being too rash Garrus. I said the same thing about Saren and look what happened!”

“Don’t you dare compare me to him. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Says the man burning down his entire life before taking off for the Terminus Systems, the lawless capital of the galaxy.”

“Right. Well, as productive as this conversation has been, it’s time I left.”

“Son...”

“Sorry dad. Like I said, words can’t change this.”

Garrus zipped up his pack and took a last look around his apartment. The citadel had been home for years before setting foot on The Normandy. Yet, leaving was the easiest decision he ever made. There was nothing left for him here.

* * *

* * *

* * *

When Garrus stepped off his shuttle to the off-world transportation hub, he had no clue as to his destination. The most desperate, filth-ridden planet in the Terminus Systems would do nicely. But how to choose? There was no way he’d pick a frigid planet like Garvug, even if its inhabitants had descended into anarchy causing chaos and death for its civilians. Some sacrifices were out of the question. There was always Talis Fia, a modern business oriented colony dominated by the volus. They were plagued by piracy given that the squat, physically defunct volus made easy prey. However, Garrus had his heart set on taking down slavers. While Talis Fia would certainly provide no shortage of targets, he had no desire to protect merchandise or corporate interests. This was about bringing hope to the common folk who simply wanted to live their lives in peace. 

A group of loudly arguing vorcha caught his attention. They were settling whatever disagreement that festered between them with teeth and claws. No one seemed bothered or even alarmed by their voracious display. When one of the vorcha reached into an ammo pouch to retrieve a grenade, a krogan merc emerged from the pack bellowing. “The fuck you think you’re doing?! This isn’t Omega! Put that shit away before I blow your brains out.” The vorcha quickly snapped to attention and gently placed the shell back in its pack.

Omega. Where did he know that name? That’s right. It was home to one of the largest red-sand labs in the Terminus. Back during his C-Sec days, he’d caught many a smuggler from the decrepit space station trying to sneak their contraband past customs. Slavers were known to use Omega as a hub for their wretched business deals as well. 

Garrus walked up to the ticket counter and purchased a one-way boarding pass. Omega was looking like the perfect fit.


	18. A Dark Knight Emerges

**January 28th 2184 CE**

_Dedicated to the women who went through it all. I hope you found some peace._

The second Garrus stepped off the transport, Omega’s rich, rank stench filled his nostrils. Off to the side, he spotted a human bum. The man reeked of booze and made an odd gurgling sound as he snored, completely oblivious to the world around him. Several vorcha packs roamed the halls and Garrus was developing a new appreciation for why most races considered them vermin. They rifled through trash and hissed at armed passerbys in an attempt to deter anyone who could oppose them. As he proceed deeper into the space station, he found himself idly wondering exactly how intelligent the beast-like beings were. If they reproduced as quickly as he’d been lead to believe, they could pose a real problem. Regardless, his first order of business was establishing a base of operations or at least finding a place to shower and spend the night. Three days in a cramped, civilian transport left him smelling less than desirable. Although given his surroundings, he was beginning to doubt it mattered.

There were several accommodations outside the infamous nightclub Afterlife. Most of the establishments advertised by-the-hour rentals with flashing neon signs. Prostitutes littered the streets shimmying seductively at passerby’s in an attempt to attract customers. They mostly consisted of asari and female humans. For two separate species, it was remarkable how similar their figures were. Garrus couldn’t help but stare out of curiosity. He didn’t have much experience with humanity’s fairer sex outside of his C-Sec days. Before her death, Ashley Williams gave him a wide berth, probably due to her family’s history in the First Contact War. 

“Like what you see?” A pair of women sauntered up and began waltzing around him in a manner he guessed was intended to be suggestive. 

“Uhh… heh. N..n.n...o just passing through.” Garrus pushed passed the crowds, towards the nearest alleyway. It seemed Omega only offered whorehouses for accommodations. Not like it mattered anyway, he wasn’t exactly rolling in credits. And given the fact that he planned on waging a war against the scum of The Terminus Systems, he needed to be careful. That would definitely have some steep startup costs. Thanks to Shepard’s impeccable attention to detail, at least he wouldn’t have to establish a cover identity. He booked his ticket to Omega under the name Castor Surion and erased any traces of Garrus Vakarian before departing. The last thing he needed were some mercs getting ahold of his true identity and exacting vengeance on his family.

It wasn’t long before he found himself in a dank market surrounded by the galaxy’s refuse. Less than thirty minutes since he stepped off the transport and already he stumbled onto a horrific crime. He watched dumbfounded as a large, black sky-car slowed and pushed out a half naked, human woman before speeding off. She rolled into the gutter and lay there motionless for a few seconds before wobbling to her feet. Garrus could see bright red gashes across her arms and shoulders. They contrasted drastically with her dark, ebony skin. 

Despite witnessing the entire scene, not one soul other than himself moved to aid her. The vendors continued guarding their wares, the citizens didn’t bother with a second glance. And Garrus had a feeling acts such as these were commonplace. He rushed to the woman’s side with his omni-tool loaded and ready to dispense a dose of medi-gel. “Hey there. I’ve got some medi-gel here. Is it alright if I give you some?”

The woman however, didn’t seem to notice him. She stared blankly in the direction of the long departed car. Not knowing what else to do, Garrus started waving his talons in front of the woman, breaking her concentration. This was apparently the wrong move. A very wrong move. She shrieked and prostrated her self in front of him, mumbling incoherently. “Hey c’mon. I’m trying to help. Get up.” To his horror, she rose to her feet, hiked up her skirt revealing her genitals and slapped her bottom in invitation. 

_Crap._

Desperately trying to ignore her nether regions, he grasped her by the elbow and pulled her out of the street. At least this way she wouldn’t wind up roadkill while offering herself to random passerby’s. 

Finally, a salarian took pity on his situation and offered help. “Here. Sedative. Will induce unconsciousness long enough to reach doctor.”

“Uhh… thanks I guess.” Garrus snatched the syringe and activated his visor’s scanner. Thorazine. It checked out. When he readied the injection, the woman immediately offered up her arm and he took note of her lack of teeth, a sure sign of chronic red sand use. “So where’s this doctor?”

“Gozu District. Follow Bend Road to Kitchner. Take right. Can’t miss it. Lots of signs.”

Once she was out, he wrapped a towel around her waist and hoisted the woman over his shoulder. He turned to thank the salarian before setting out, but the mysterious Good Samaritan had vanished. 

* * *

* * *

* * *

The journey to the med-clinic was uneventful. Given that he was alone and encumbered, Garrus was grateful. A squadron of mechs greeted him and a voice crackled through an overhanging speaker outside the clinic’s entrance. 

“State your business.”

“Uhh. Found a woman who could use some help.” Garrus shifted and brought the unconscious woman forward, giving the camera a better view. 

“Alright. Keep your hands where we can see them. No sudden moves. Reach for a weapon and it’ll be the last thing you do.”

The door opened with a hiss, revealing a young human man escorted by two armed guards. The man immediately rushed to the woman. “What happened to her?”

“Not sure. Some assholes dumped her by the markets and sped off. I gave her a sedative and brought her here.”

From the speaker, another voice jumped to life. “Blue Suns most likely. Regularly dump used up women. Can help. Yes. Yes. Bring her inside Daniel.”

Daniel took her from Garrus’s arms and walked back towards the clinic. Before the doors closed, he turned to Garrus. “Thank you. For helping. No one really cares around here.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

The doors snapped shut. And Garrus vowed swift and brutal vengeance against The Blue Suns. Omega’s gangs wouldn’t be top dog much longer if he had anything to say about it.

As he meandered back through the Gozu District, Garrus stumbled on a pair of vorcha holding up an elderly human couple. The man was desperately trying to undo the clasp on a rather expensive looking watch, yet his fingers trembled and fumbled.

“Faster.” The first vorcha hissed. “We no have time for this!”

The second culprit raised his pistol. Yet, before he could crack it against the man’s skull Garrus lunged and twisted the offending arm, causing the vorcha to drop his gun. In one smooth motion he simultaneously knocked both vermin unconscious. 

The woman’s eyes were wide with fear. She gasped and wobbled backwards, while her husband stood still as a statue feebly holding up his watch as an offering. 

“I’m not here for that.” Garrus held his hands in front of him to illustrate he meant no harm. “I’m here to help.”

“To help? Why would anyone care about nobodies like us?” The man blurted in disbelief.

“It’s time someone taught these scum a lesson. Let’s just say, I’ve had enough.” 

Garrus watched as the pair fled back into their apartment. Once the door was closed and they were out of sight, he executed both offenders. There were many ways to help people. And killing dangerous criminals was his specialty.

He spent the subsequent days living rough. Hunting Saren lead through many brutal, unforgiving landscapes and Garrus became accustomed to managing with little to no sleep. Usually he’d grab an hour or two of shut eye while his squadmates stood guard and vice versa. But navigating Omega solo didn’t allow for many power naps. Without someone to watch his back, he’d be a sitting duck. After three straight days without sleep, he stumbled on some dark tunnels in the belly of the decrepit space station. They were largely deserted, isolated, and the perfect place to catch some shut eye. After scouting out the area and confirming it was completely vacant, he set up shop in the metallic rafters. 

It had the makings of a nice, temporary shelter. He could stash his gear on the rafter adjacent to the one he’d use for sleeping and his guns fit snugly on the overhanging rebar. Within a moment’s notice, he could arm himself if trouble came calling. Plus, from the ground, he was completely invisible. Enemies would have to know where to look in order for him to be spotted.

Garrus spent the next few weeks breaking up small scuffles around the district directly above his hideout. Muggers generally wound up taking a nasty beating. Rapists and red sand runners were swiftly put down. And spirits help those trying to scoop up the poor for a quick slave grab. Rumors began circulating that the Kenzo District had a guardian angel, whatever that meant. While perusing through the lower markets, he caught a couple of women whispering about his various good deeds.

“He’s an angel, whoever he is.” 

“Mmmm too bad he isn’t human. I always had a thing for superheroes.” The second woman sipped on her coffee. Civilians were beginning to emerge from their homes more frequently, emboldened by the nameless vigilante’s actions.

“I’m just glad he’s here. It’s about time someone did something about these thugs.”

As if on cue, several vorcha flanked by a krogan commander marched into the seedy cafe. “Good evening. Rumor has it that you foolish sobs think you can skitter about without paying your dues to the Blood Pack.” The giant casually aimed his shotgun towards the ceiling and blew out the fluorescent bulbs. The lights flickered haphazardly, giving the cafe an ominous flashing affect. The patrons, who were no strangers to violence, hit the floor and scattered, desperately trying to crawl out of the Blood Pack’s path.

Garrus checked that his helmet was secure and leaped into the fray. He quickly put down two of the vorcha. Clean kills right between the eyes. In a moment of inspiration, he whipped out an ascension cable and grappling hook. Swinging wide, it made contact with the overhanging rebar. He soared out of the enraged krogan’s grasp, freely firing his rifle into the remaining vorcha.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?!” The krogan bellowed up at him, futilely shooting at the air. 

“Just someone who’s done with your crap.” Garrus growled from above. He made an impeccable landing on the catwalk, before swiftly aiming and firing into the krogan’s vulnerable zygomatic arch. 

The massive figure shrieked and brought a hand up to his exploding face. “You’llllll ayy or isss.” He gurgled and crumpled to the ground.

Cheers erupted from all around the cafe. Several patrons scurried out from beneath their tables, gazing up and pointing at Garrus as he stood awkwardly above them. 

“You’re like Michael, good sir.” One of the women from earlier gasped. 

“Who’s Michael?” A salarian server queried as he crawled out of an airduct. 

“An archangel. They fight for God. For good.”

The salarian, now standing side by side with the woman nodded. “Fitting. Yes. Hey! Hey you! Hey Archangel!” Garrus met his gaze through his helmet, not wanting to give away the slightest hint to his identity.

“Come back around. We need you. These Blood Pack goons are relentless.”

The crowd murmured in agreement. When Garrus nodded, the entire cafe erupted into cheers. The salarian hopped on a table and began clamoring. “For Archangel.”

Using bits of broken glassware, mugs, and even part of a chair. The various patrons raised the broken objects towards him. “FOR ARCHANGEL. FOR ARCHANGEL. FOR ARCHANGEL.”

The cheers followed him through the dank, musty tunnels and back to his hideout. For the first time since arriving on the wretched space station, Garrus got a full night’s sleep. Metal bed be damned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spent my twenties living in a rough Oakland neighborhood. Saw a lot of crazy shit while I lived there. The woman Garrus brought to the clinic is based on a real person who was dumped not far from my apartment. I wish I could say she was the last. Stay safe out there kiddos. There really are monsters in this world. And most people are so jaded they just accept it as part of life.


	19. Enemy of My Enemy

**February 10th 2184 CE**

It felt nice to be clean. Garrus sauntered out of the rent-a-shower, back to the filthy streets of Omega. Despite his surroundings, for once, he was in a chipper mood. Today had been incredibly productive. He’d finally found the perfect place to setup a base of operations. With its long bridge, sniper’s perch, and underground bunker he couldn’t think of a more beautiful find. The icing on the cake was the three foot thick walls both above and below ground. It would take some serious firepower to make a mere dent in the building’s construction. And thanks to his extreme frugality over the last few weeks, he had enough for the first two months rent. It took some digging to locate the property’s owner. But his persistence paid off and he had an appointment with his soon-to-be landlord in the morning.

He also used the time to get a real feel for the lay of the land. Not only did he complete a comprehensive reconnaissance on Omega’s infrastructure, learning the ins and outs of the space station’s extensive tunnel and catwalk network, but he also took the time to get to know its three major players. Blood Pack, Blue Suns, and Eclipse. Out of desperation, many of the local populace relied on The Blue Suns for protection. While they didn’t outright declare it, the merc band was known for deliberately hooking civilians on red sand. Once the poor fools were penniless and out on the street, The Suns would swoop in and procure them as slaves. The Blood Pack had an incredibly strong foothold on Omega and were known to randomly terrorize the local populace. Eclipse consisted of ruthless, powerful biotics. Paired with salarian intelligence, they were nearly unstoppable. However, Garrus planned to change all that. It was time these thugs learned some hard lessons. 

An odd screeching sound that could only be made by metal on metal caught his attention. The offending noise was swiftly followed by a minor explosion and gunfire. He unclipped his rifle and used his nifty climbing gear to reach the closest cat walk. Something was going down. And he wanted to check it out.

**45 minutes earlier**

“Booyah! Take that Motherfuckers!” Ripper fell back into the passenger seat and reloaded his two semi-automatics. “Let’s put some lead holes in these bitches! You with me Dusty boy?”

“Hell yeah! Hit these Mofos where it hurts!” Dustin revved the skycar’s engines. “Gettin’ you there in style, man. Make it count.”

Dustin pulled the car’s yoke back into his chest, causing the vehicle to abruptly change course and begin soaring towards Omega’s skyline. He skillfully navigated across the skyscrapers’ rooftops, dodging air filtration systems, clotheslines, and countless heaps of rotting trash. 

A gang of six men on hover bikes flanked them. Ripper busted through the sunroof, loosing both rifles into the enraged group of Blue Suns. “Three down. Only three more of these lil’ bitches to go. Hand me the rocket will ya?” Once he had the launcher in his arms, he synced up the target lock with the foremost biker. The remaining two weren’t far behind. He pulled the trigger and cheered as the massive salvo nuked the first Sun causing the other two to crash into him in a blaze of glory.

“Woooweeeh. That’s right. What’d I say? With these bitches dead, we’ll be in and out in a jiffy.” Ripper dropped back into his seat, trembling with adrenaline. Their skycar pulled up to a chic rooftop bar, which was closed and showed no signs of life. “Alright. There’s a stash of credit chits in the safe. You got the cracker?”

“Locked and loaded man.”

“You never disappoint.”

Both men swiftly disembarked and blasted through the establishment’s doors. They made their way to the safe, the sound of crunching glass accompanying their every step.

“It’s right through here. In the boss man’s old office.” Ripper pointed to a small, dark alcove that was home to a battered yet solid metal door. Dustin quickly activated his omni-tool and went to work. Despite the man’s hulking 200 lb frame, he was no uneducated brute. His engineering skills were on par with Alliance trained soldiers.

Dustin quickly cracked the safe within and they filled their packs with more credit chits than any humble man had the luxury of setting their eyes on. 

“Alright man we gotta move. Those bastards’ll be all over this place in a few minutes.” Ripper readied his semis and headed towards the exit. 

“There’s a hidden compartment. Gimme a sec.” Dustin was back on his omni-tool, his sausage fingers flying over the virtual keys. For as long as he’d live, Ripper would never understand how that man’s hands could be so nimble given that his appendages looked closer to overgrown carrots than fingers.

“Got it.” Dustin reached deep into the safe, and pulled out his prize – some sort of computer crap by the looks of it.

“The fuck is that?”

“An info chip. Wonder what’s on it. Must be important.”

“Whatever. Let’s get outta here.”

As they raced back to their sky-car, the booming voice of their former commander and chief greeted them. “No one fucks over The Blue Suns.” He bellowed as a barrage of bullets trailed them into their get-away vehicle. 

Ripper sprinted hard, making sure to give as good as he got, firing back as they darted for the car. Once Dustin was behind the wheel, Ripper popped through the sunroof and laid into him. “Fuck off Tarak. We’re done with this shit.”

“The Blue Suns are for life.” Tarak shrieked. “You leave. You die. You fuck us over while leaving, you die painfully.”

They sped away with countless Suns hot on their heels. “Hey Dusty, c’mon we need more speed.” Ripper lobbed a few grenades at their unwelcome entourage. He counted twelve hover bikes and a god damned MAKO M35 tank, heavily modified and far faster than the standard versions. “Seriously dude, they’re gaining on us.” 

Ripper popped his head back inside to figure out what the hold up was, only to see his friend steering with one hand and frantically pressing the other to his neck in an attempt to stem the flow of blood. “Shit shit shit.” He snatched the medi-gel and swiftly applied it to Dustin’s wound. “Hang in there brother. I’ve got you. I’ll get us outta here. You just hang on.”

“Ripper. I’m sorry.”

“No way brother. You’re not doin’ this to me. From cradle to grave remember? **_C’mon_**.” Ripper was trying to move his friend from the driver’s seat when their sky-car hit a pole and spun wildly before tossing them into the street.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Garrus quickly located the offending noise – a burning husk of a sky-car had made a nasty landing after colliding with a lamp-post. And from the looks of it, some crazy human, dressed in nothing but a simple white tank top and green cargo pants, was the passenger. Using his sniper’s scope to zero in, he could see a tattoo reaching from his collarbone to just under his ear – some sort of rope-like creature was entwined around a dagger, its strange mouth opened revealing a two-pronged tongue. Alone and unarmored this man was attempting to fend off an entire platoon of Blue Suns. Using the sky-car’s flaming remains as cover, he threw grenades and recklessly shot into the chaos with two automatic-type rifles.

From his perch above the crash site, he had a perfect view of the oncoming suns and their prey. What was this human up to? And why was one of the most notorious mercenary bands hell bent on killing him? Should he help? Continue to observe?

“I swear to fuckin’ god Tarak. I’ll fuckin’ end you for this.” The human was screaming uncontrollably. In his arms, was a large missile launcher the likes of which Garrus had never seen before. The thing packed a punch too. Not only did it have some sort of target-lock built in but when the salvo was released, it laid waste to several Suns who were attempting to dismount their hover bikes. When he ran out of ammo, the human started loading the gun with shards of broken glass and scattered debris. To Garrus’s amazement, the weapon fired. Although, it didn’t seem to be making much of a dent against The Sun’s armor. 

It was now or never. Without help, this human was already dead. Unbidden, Shepard’s sad, distant voice echoed in his mind. " _Look to the enemy of your enemy and you’ll find a friend."_

He took aim and quickly turned the foremost Sun’s head into a shower of gore. The human jumped in surprise, and Garrus repeated the favor. Suddenly, a MAKO M35 turned the corner at an alarming speed, blasting a massive hole in the burning sky-car. Despite the fact the human’s cover was now blown to smithereens, he refused to run. Instead, the insane man hit the deck prostrating himself over what appeared to be some sort of brown, lumpy fabric. 

“I’ve got this.” Garrus hummed to himself. If there was one land vehicle he knew inside and out it was the Mako. The Systems Alliance’s technology for ground vehicles was severely lacking when compared to galactic standards. And The Mako was no exception. They opted to continue using fossil fuels and their relevant tanks. While the armor was supposed to protect the fuel tank from gunfire, if hit just right with enough force, it would set off a fierce explosion. 

The offending Mako was accompanied by several black and awfully familiar looking sky-cars. Garrus didn’t hesitate. His HMWSR Sniper Rifle was locked, loaded, and on target. He pulled the trigger, setting off a massive explosion that engulfed two of the four smaller vehicles. A batarian rolled down his window and bellowed orders through a megaphone. “He’s got back up! Retreat! All units retreat!” The remaining cars quickly reversed and sped away from the flaming wreckage. Time to see what this guy’s all about.

As he cautiously made his way towards the human, now bent over the rumpled, brown mass his visor now identified as a body, he noted the man’s tattoo was more tasteful than most. While he hadn’t the faintest clue as to what the creature was, the colors – black, silver, and green united in a graceful pattern. 

“That was quite the standoff.” Garrus had a pistol discreetly aimed at the man’s head, unsure if he was friend or foe.

“Dustin.. My friend…..”

“I think you know the answer to that. I’m sorry, but he’s gone.”

“It’s all my fault…. If we hadn’t gone back for the creds….” The human released a low, bitter moan and slumped beside his dead comrade.

“Ah, this may not be the best time but I have to ask. What did you do to piss off The Suns?”

“We left. They don’t look kindly on deserters.”

Garrus turned sharply, there was an unmistakable ruckus in the distance. And he wouldn’t be surprised if the mercs had regrouped and were returning for round two. “Hey, look. If living’s on the agenda, you better run. I can hear The Suns. Sounds like they’re coming back for more.” With his curiosity satisfied, Garrus turned to leave. It’s not like the human was helpless by any means. And he wasn’t about to declare war on the Blue Suns prematurely over some revenge plot by a disgruntled merc.

But the human didn’t budge an inch. Instead, he stared absentmindedly at the ruddy ground with his head in his odd, five fingered hands.

“Uh hello?”

“The fuck do you care? Why you helpin’ me?”

“About mercs killing mercs? I don’t care. In fact, I think it’s about time the trash learned to take itself out. But I am curious as to….”

“I’m not a good guy.” The ex-Blue Sun interrupted. “But don’t you dare compare me to those cocksuckers. I signed up for quick ticket outta the gutter. Not this slave-trafficking, red-sand dealin’, rapist bullshit.”

“Uh huh.”

“Whatever man. Even I can hear ‘em now. Either gimme a grenade or get lost. Gonna take out as many of ‘em as I can before I croak. Maybe I’ll get lucky and blow up Tarak.”

“A last stand?”

“Gotta stand for somethin’ or maybe I just gotta take a stand.”

“I can respect that.”

“Gonna gimme a grenade then hot shot?”

“Something better.”

His answer came in the form of a disgruntled snort.

“Hear me out.” Garrus holstered his pistol and knelt down so they were eye-level. “I’m going to give The Blue Suns, Eclipse, Blood Pack, and every other slave-dealing asshole on this station the beating of their lives or a bullet to their heads. But I can’t do it alone. Join me and you’ll not only have revenge. You’ll have a cause worth fighting and dying for.

The merc met his gaze, and Garrus found himself staring directly at two hard, brown eyes while the human considered his offer.

“Ripper.” 

Garrus met his outstretched hand and shook. “Castor. Now it’s about time we got the hell out of here.”

“You don’t owe me nuthin’ man. But, Dustin., I can’t leave ‘em like this.”

“We’re going to be scaling buildings in a few minutes. I don’t think we can...”

“I get it. I get it. Got any booze then?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Gas?”

Catching his meaning, Garrus pulled out his M-451 Firestorm. Ripper snatched it and immediately unleashed its full power on his friend’s body. Even after the corpse had caught fire, the ex-merc continued the onslaught quickly turning the body into a pile of smoldering ash. He tossed the flamethrower back to Garrus and began filling a tin with the glowing remains.

“Alright. We really need to move.” Garrus lead them back to the catwalks and whipped out his grapple and ascension cable. He hooked one arm under the human and pulled them towards the overhanging footway. They made their way back to Garrus’s humble hideout in melancholy silence. 

Yet, upon seeing the meager accommodations, Ripper protested. “If this is where we’ll be sleepin’ I need a few stiff drinks in me.”

“It’s just for tonight. I’ve got a base lined up but my appointment with the landlord isn’t until morning. Besides, I’m not exactly flush with creds.”

“I got you covered.”


	20. This One's For the Faithless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I keep changing this story’s title because, truth be told, it doesn’t have a title. I can’t even recall the original name and the last one was chosen because I made some crappy story cover in gimp and it seemed fitting. Suggestions welcome! Although, I kind of like this one. Who knows, maybe I'll keep it.

**February 11th 2184 CE**

The bar Ripper lead them to was a seedy little joint in the Kima district. Upon arriving, the pair settled into a booth in the dark recesses of the establishment. The place was discreet and had a menu that catered to both levo and dextro species. Not wanting to become inebriated before his upcoming business deal, Garrus ordered a cup of torfa. Ripper on the other hand was downing shots like there was no tomorrow. Garrus took the opportunity to observe his new companion. He had light brown skin with long, curly jet-black hair that had come undone. It gave the man an unkempt, grizzled look that was beyond his years. When the next row of shots were lined up, he went straight to work. There was drinking for fun and drinking to forget and it was glaringly obvious that the latter drove Ripper onward.

“So...where are you from?” Garrus attempted making conversation.

“Earth.”

“How’d you wind up on Omega?”

“Some asshole recruiter for The Blue Suns. Told Dusty and me we’d have a new life. Hah. New life. Fucker. Went from one shit-hole to another.” 

“I heard earth is beautiful and experiencing a cultural renaissance.”

“Not where we grew up. We was street kids. Our ‘hood was hard and gritty.”

“I thought maybe you were ex-Alliance. Your fighting skills are impressive. Who taught you to move like that?”

“I fought for every scrap of food I got. An empty belly will turn any scrawny asshole into one mean motherfucker. But if you gots to know the details, Dusty. He saved my sorry ass back home. Been together since we was kids.”

“I can’t believe the humans just let their orphans starve on the streets.”

“They have group homes, you know places where they pretend to take care of ya. Mine was a shit-hole and, well, let’s just say the streets were more appealing. So I ran.” Ripper was beginning to slur a little. “Dunno why I’m tellin’ you all this.”

“We’re about to wage war on Omega’s gangs together. I like to know my people.”

“You have people now?” Ripper snorted. “Seems to me you’s one step above a bum.”

“I trained as a spectre. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t believe ya. Saw what you did to that tank. That’s enough for me. So you said somethin’ about havin’ a crib lined up?”

“Yeah. I’m meeting the landlord in a few hours.”

“Tell ya what.” Ripper finished off his last shot and slammed his pack on the table. “Here. Take it. Don’t want it no how.”

“What’s...” But Garrus was cut off by his own astonishment when he opened the knapsack. “You… You’re giving this to me?”

“Untraceable accounts with at least a couple million creds in ‘em. Gotta be enough there to buy the place. Get us some sweet gear too.”

“I can’t accept this. It’s too generous.”

“Fine. Then I’ll space it. Don’t want no blood money.”

“This about your friend?”

There was a long pause. Ripper clenched and unclenched his fists. “We was free. But I didn’t want to go back livin’ like a rat. I convinced him to do one last heist for the road. Shoulda been me man. He was bloody smart that one. He could build, create shit. Me? I just destroy. Take it or don’t. But I’m not keepin’ it. Seems to me you’re the best shot at takin’ down The Blue Suns. So’s I want you to ‘ave it.”

“I don’t know what to say. Thank you doesn’t quite suffice.”

“Yeah whatever. Don’t make this weird. Just make them pay.”

They sat in amicable silence until early morning, burning time until they could meet the owner of their future base. A middle-aged, human patron hunkered down at the bar caught Garrus’s attention. People watching was a sufficient way to pass the time. While the guy was a miserable wretch, his clothes were neatly ironed and his shoes were remarkably well-polished. It was an odd sight, a conundrum. The balding man attempted waving down the bartender for another round.

“Fuck no you’re cut off. If I give you any more, I’ll be mopping your sick off the floor again. Get outta here.” 

“Ayyyy. Jusa one more.” 

Maybe it was leftover echoes of his time as a detective, but he wanted to unravel the mystery. Garrus turned to Ripper. “You seem to know this place pretty well. Happen to know who that guy is?”

“Sort of. Dunno his name but he comes ‘round on the regular cryin’ into his drink.”

“He ever say why?”

“Family’s dead or somethin’.”

“That’ll do it.” Garrus stood and moved towards the bar.

“Shit man. What’re you doin’?”

“Let’s just say human curiosity has rubbed off on me. Besides we’ve got two more hours to burn and he looks like he might need some help getting home.”

Garrus sat in the stool adjacent to the heavily inebriated man. “I’m new around here and you seem like a resident. What would you suggest to someone fresh off the transport?”

“Get ta fuck ouwwa here.”

“Hey I’m just trying to make polite conversation.”

“Naw wha I meant. Omegaaaa. Don wanna stay. Run.”

“You going to be okay getting home?”

The man laid his head down on the bar and began mumbling. “Archangel layyyt ohme.” Garrus stiffened. He knew civilians in the Kenzo District had dubbed him ‘Archangel.’ But he had no idea the name had spread further than a few street cafes in the lower markets.

The bartender observed their interaction and immediately pounced. “Hey you! Turian! Get this asshole out of my bar before he starts chucking up his liquid breakfast.”

Garrus nodded to Ripper who immediately joined him at the bar. “Alright boss. What’re we doin’?”

“Grab his other arm.” Ripper obeyed and together they hauled him to his feet. “Our new home isn’t far from here. May as well wait there for the owner. We can make sure no one messes with him while he sleeps it off.”

* * *

* * *

* * *

The owner was overjoyed at the prospect of offloading what he dubbed a ‘useless investment.’ Before most of the space station’s resident’s had bothered to crawl out of bed, Garrus found himself the proud new owner of the dilapidated yet sturdy property. After they propped up their mystery drunk in the front corridor, they went about exploring their new hideout. 

There was a small room off to the right by the entryway that would need to be solidified, considering the massive windows were a structural weakness. As they continued down the corridor, it opened up into a large living area. Musty, broken tables were scattered about haphazardly. To their left was an old commercial kitchen equipped with several microwaves, a stove, fridge, and an island with granite counter tops. Garrus wondered if the place used to be a restaurant of sorts. It was built like a fortress but that didn’t mean much on Omega.

“Think any of this stuff still works?” Garrus tried the stove and cautiously opened an ancient refrigerator, genuinely terrified of what might greet him. However, both were dormant and thankfully empty. 

“Don’t look at me man. I’m no fixer.” Ripper snorted.

“No worries. I can get the kitchen up and running again. Just don’t ask me to cook.”

The kitchen lead into another room of equal size that Garrus guessed was a private dining area. Back behind the stairs was the entrance to the underground bunker. Upstairs had the most potential. The back room was spacious and had the makings of a master bedroom. However, the selling point was the sniper’s perch at the far end of the hall overlooking a narrow bridge – the sole point of entry. It was the largest room in the base. They could partition off the sleeping quarters and use the other half as an armory and watch post. That way, in the event of an emergency, their lookout would simply have to shout and his men could gear up at a moment’s notice.

On the top floor, Garrus leaned against railing overlooking the living area where his new companion was. “So, what do you think? It needs a new coat of paint but it has potential.”

“Whatever. I need a nap or I’m gonna keel over.”

“I have a sleeping bag in my pack. It’s meant for a turian but in my experience humans can make do.”

“That drunk dude woke up.”

“He okay?”

“He’s goin’ nowhere fast.”

Once Ripper was situated upstairs, Garrus turned his attention to the drunk staggering around the dilapidated living area. That’s when he received an unwelcome lesson in human anatomy for the second time since his arrival on Omega. The man had his pants unzipped and was urinating all over a broken table leg. “Oh for spirit’s sake.” 

Startled, the man teetered, fell back, and hit his head against the table he had just peed on. Upon investigating, Garrus discovered the drunk had knocked himself unconscious. Finally losing his patience, he sat the man upright, opened his canteen, and dumped water over his head. 

“Wake up.” He growled and planted a firm slap on the side of his cheek. “Hey now, I’m not dealing with this or your urine soaked leggings. So time to get up!”

Despite his inebriation, the absurd human modesty trait lead the man to zip up his pants the second he regained consciousness. And after seeing both male and female human genitals, Garrus had gained insight into their prudery. All their important bits were external. The very notion was bizarre to him. It seemed dangerous, vulnerable. Without the biotics of asari or the intelligence of the salarians, how did the human race survive and evolve to become so powerful in the galactic community?

“Whaddya want?”

“Alright you cranky, old bastard. My hospitality is running out. I’m bringing you home. Just point the way.”

He staggered to his feet and wobbled towards the exit.

“Hold up.” Garrus motioned to the ground. “Urine will soak into the floor boards and start to reek. I need to...”

Without a word, the drunk whipped off his shirt and threw it over the puddle. Stepping on his blouse, he shimmied around using it to mop up the pee. Then he threw it back over his shoulder and continued towards the exit.

“That works I guess.”

* * *

* * *

* * *

As it turned out, the drunk lived two streets down from their hideout. Originally, Garrus’s plan was to leave him at his doorstep and be done with him. But when he staggered up to the entryway, the door flung open revealing an enraged human woman in a long bathrobe and curlers in her hair.

“Frank! My goodness. Again?! I’ve been up all night worried sick.”

All she received in response was a disgruntled snort as he waddled in the doorway, barely maintaining consciousness.

Before Garrus could turn to leave, the woman focused her attention on him.

“Wait! Sir?”

“Yes?”

“Did… did you bring him home?”

“Yeah..”

“Oh I hope he didn’t give you much trouble.”

Garrus hoped she couldn’t read turian facial expressions well as the puddle of pee in his newly purchased hideout immediately swept to the forefront of his mind.

“Of course he did.” She sighed, wringing her hands. “He… he wasn’t always like this you know. Look, let me make you breakfast for your trouble. You look like you could use a bite.”

“Oh, uhm I can’t eat...”

“Don’t worry. My son had several turian friends. And you know how young boys are. I was sure to keep plenty of dextro goodies stocked. Please I insist. Besides, I have frozen qualisi that’s going to waste. You’d be helping me out.”

The notion of a hot breakfast made his stomach grumble. He’d been living lean the past few weeks and suddenly found himself starving.

“If it’s no trouble...”

She ushered him inside. Straight ahead, a meager stairway lead into what Garrus could only guess was a basement. He wondered if all dwellings on Omega had underground bunkers capable of withstanding a few bombs. It would certainly make sense given the station’s reputation.

The kitchen was quaint. A small, yellow table with four chairs greeted him. 

“Oh. Those probably won’t fit you.” She said as if she read his mind. “Well how about the living room? We have a recliner that’d do nicely.”

“Anywhere is fine. I could stand...”

“Absolutely not!” She motioned to a large, plush chair. The kitchen was so small, it spilled into the living area. Within three steps he reached the recliner. After weeks of sleeping on metal and putting down thugs, the cushion felt heavenly.

He could hear her readying pots and pans. When she pulled a small package out of the freezer, she made certain he read the label. “I promise. I’ve made it before and won’t poison you. But it might be a tad freezer burned. It’s been in there awhile….”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“It’s not every day a hero graces my doorstep.”

“What?” Garrus nearly leaped out of his seat.

“Oh… Well. It’s just that…. I recognize your armor.” She looked away. “You’re Archangel. Aren’t you? I was in the cafe that day you put down those Blood Pack goons. Serves them right.” The woman tossed several strips of qualisi in the frying pan with a huff. “Oh my, where are my manners. My name’s Nalah. Nalah Butler.”

“Castor.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you Castor. I’m not sure why you came to Omega, but your actions these past few weeks have been a breath of fresh air.” 

“I… thank you.”

“No. Thank you. No one cares around here. That’s just how things are. But you’re different aren’t you?”

Garrus wasn’t sure if he was meant to answer. Instead, he opted to awkwardly fidget in his chair. The next thing he knew a steaming heap of delectable qualisi was presented to him. Goodness, it brought him back. To Palaven. To his mother and their early morning breakfasts together before boot camp, before her illness.

“Castor?” Nalah prodded. “Castor? Are you alright? Is there something wrong with the food? I swear I...”

“It’s fine.” Garrus interrupted. “More than fine actually. My mom used to make this for me back on Palaven. It’s, uhh, it’s been awhile.”

“I understand.” Nalah retreated to the kitchen and busied herself with the cleanup.

Garrus couldn’t get over how this human woman had cooked up a plate of authentic qualisi – crunchy, savory, qualisi. After gobbling up every morsel, curiosity got the better of him. “I have to ask. Where did you learn to cook this?”

“Oh, my son’s best friend was a turian boy, those two were inseparable. They met in junior high and hit it off. I couldn’t let the lad starve when he stayed over now could I? I found some cooking videos on the extranet. And the rest is history.” She sighed. “I wonder where Galius is now, it’s been years since I last saw him.”

Garrus’s mouth opened before his brain caught up to reality. “They didn’t keep in touch?” 

“It’s not that. Galius kept in contact for a few years after…. After my son Emmett passed. But life beyond this wretched place called to him, and he moved on.”

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s been years, but a parent never gets over the loss of a child. Much less the loss of both children.”

“Spirits. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Don’t be. It’s nice to meet someone who doesn’t flinch at the sight of me. All my neighbors look at us with pity. But the truth is, I’d rather remember Emmett and Dorothy the way they lived, not how they died.”

“Tell me about them.”

Nalah returned to the living area and made herself comfortable in the recliner parallel to his. “Emmett was the sharpest kid you’d ever meet. When he was a young boy, he’d take apart everything. First he started with omni-tools. Then he moved onto datapads, computers, any sort of tech he could get his little hands on.” She laughed. “Of course it was a few years before he learned how to put it all back together. Frank and I nearly went broke when he took apart our only omni-tool.”

Nalah ran her hands across the folds on her bathrobe. “But my Dorothy, she was a sweetheart. Musical too. That girl wanted to be a star. She was into all the ancient, vintage actresses from Earth. Plastered her room with posters of Marilyn Monroe and Audrey Hepburn.” Her voice dropped and Garrus could see she was trembling. “Those… those… animals… kidnapped our Dorothy. Used her. And discarded her body like it was trash. She was only fourteen. When Emmett learned who was responsible, he went after them. We should have kept a closer eye on him. He took his sister’s death hard but we were so overwhelmed from her loss that we didn’t see the anger, the rage, until it was too late. He was barely seventeen, still a boy. They gunned him down like it was nothing.”

Garrus swallowed hard and steadied himself. Even if it was the last thing he ever did, he would slaughter every one of those pieces of shit. “Who did this?”

“The Talons, Emmett, before he died, he said it was Derius himself.”

“They will be avenged. And I’ll make sure every gang on this station knows why the Talons were wiped off the face of the map.”

Garrus didn’t know what he expected. But it certainly wasn’t for this woman to throw her arms around him in a warm embrace. “Call me crazy, but I actually believe you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. I hate writing physical descriptions of locations, buildings, etc. Probably because I don’t care. Even when I’m reading a fascinating novel, it’s hard for me to focus whenever the author is describing the surroundings. Yet, it’s important to paint a picture and blah blah blah. Plus I need the practice if I’m going to try and become a real writer. So, I did my best.


	21. Strength to Believe

**February 16th 2184 CE**

Garrus spent the following days researching The Talons and their supposedly unremarkable leader. They were a small time gang, so inconsequential that the major players didn’t even bother with them; which is how they survived. That being said, The Talons were a nasty bunch. They captured slaves, dealt red sand, ran protection rackets, and freelanced as hired killers. Like cockroaches they crawled out of their lairs to reign down terror on the local populace, but knew their limits. Despite their paltry numbers, they had significant successes, hinting at intelligence behind their plans. And his gut feeling was that Derius wasn’t the witless idiot he made himself out to be. The gang had adapted perfectly to their situation. An enemy like that was to be respected. And Garrus knew he’d have to strengthen the team significantly before he’d be comfortable taking them on.

At the moment, their main focus was sprucing up their base of operations. They had cleaned out the ground floor, disposing of broken furniture and the various odds and ends left behind by its former tenants. Once the debris was cleared, they fortified the front room’s defenses. All windows had been replaced by three foot thick, reinforced steel. 

The kitchen appliances weren’t nearly as cooperative as broken down furniture. They were less technological than the apparatuses from back home, and he found himself lost in their simplicity. 

“What are you doing?” Garrus blurted exasperatedly at the sound of Ripper roaming about the upstairs corridor with some sort of wood stick with wide bristles at the base. It made an awful scratching sound against the hard floor.

“Sweeping.” 

“What is that?”

“A broom. What? You too good for chores hot shot?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever laid eyes on something so archaic.”

“Go buy us some fancy cleanin’ robot and be done with it then. This was in the closet so’s this is what I’m usin’.”

Garrus switched on his visor’s playlist and returned to repairing the refrigerator. The air filtration system was a mess. He could simply toss it and order a new one but expenses were piling up. Between the steep price tag on their base of operations, fortified steel barricades, and Ripper’s new armor they had spent over half their credits. Until they had a source of income, he had to be careful.

“Need a hand?” At the sound of a voice that was distinctly not Ripper’s, Garrus nearly jumped out of his skin. He spun around wildly, switching off his deafening music in the process, and found himself standing face to face with Frank Butler.

Garrus glanced up to see how the neighborhood drunk had gotten the drop on Ripper as well only to find the human head banging vigorously to whatever music was blaring through his earbuds, still dragging that ridiculous broom around.

“How did you get in?!” Garrus gaped, scarcely believing his eyes.

“You know, you really should lock your door.”

“I installed both electronic and turn key locks. Not to mention the fact it’s reinforced with three feet of solid steel!”

“Oh, I came in the other door.”

“The other… what?!” He not only studied the blueprints before buying the place but thoroughly scoped it out. “Show me.”

Butler lead him to the underground bunker, a small room that opened into a larger warehouse structure. Garrus watched closely as Frank waltzed to his right, and pressed his hand against the concrete wall revealing a hidden passageway. He repeated the gesture on the other side with the same result. 

“Used to work here in the sixties. They didn’t want us regular folk walkin’ in the front door so we used the back entrance.”

“This is a problem we’ll need to address.” Garrus groaned. “For now I can electronically lock the standard doors. However, I’d like to see how deep these tunnels go. Mind showing me around?”

The tour beneath his base was uneventful. Both tunnels spilled out into the west and east side of the Kima District, if used properly they could serve as escape routes in case trouble came knocking. The other option would be to collapse the passageways in order to secure the base. Either way, he’d have to deal with it sooner or later.

Once they were back inside, Butler went to work on the various appliances. Within an hour, he had the whole kitchen running smooth as silk.

“Castor, I uhhh… Look, I don’t know how to say this. But my wife, she told me your plans. Let me join you. I know my way around a gun, a little anyway. But I can do just about anything. Cook, clean, repair stuff…”

Garrus paused to evaluate the man in front of him. Despite the signs of aging, Frank’s mannerisms were almost child-like. He stared at his hands, shame clearly washing over him. And Garrus knew there was more to this than mere embarrassment over drunken antics. 

“You understand we’re going after some of the nastiest criminals in the galaxy I hope. You’ll need training and I expect you to follow orders.”

Frank’s entire disposition changed in an instant. In a flash, he closed the distance between them and vigorously shook Garrus’s hand. 

“I won’t disappoint you sir.”


	22. An Incidental Rescue

**March 22nd 2184 CE**

Butler’s training was progressing nicely. For an old fart, the man could move surprisingly fast. He wouldn’t serve as a heavy hitter by any means. But what he lacked in combat prowess, he made up for with sheer determination. That man was resolute when it came to avenging his family, not that Garrus could blame him. If some scum had taken out Solona or his parents like that, he’d beat them within an inch of their lives before feeding them their own testicles.

The trio began cleaning up the streets as a team. Lying in wait for muggers and red sand dealers became part of their daily routine as it provided good practice for Frank. He needed to sharpen his teeth on soft targets and Garrus had to be certain Butler was backed up at every turn in case things went sour. Their activities also padded their bottom line as he didn’t see the harm in rifling through sand dealers pockets’ once they were dead. 

During a regular patrol in the Kenzo District, they stumbled onto a group of batarians beating one of their own senseless. The gang of six had drug him into the street and huddled around his limp form, kicking and hurling insults. Garrus and his team were safely out of view, hidden in the catwalks above.

“Low caste cunt.” A batarian slurred. “Shoulda put him out of his misery ages ago.”

“Didn’t think we’d recognize you?”

They pulled the wounded batarian’s head back as if they expected an answer. Blood poured from his mouth. For a moment, their eyes locked and Garrus could see the desperation, the plea for help in all four black, beady little windows.

“We’re intervening.” He whispered. “Ripper, you’re with me. We’re dropping in hot. Expect close quarters combat. Frank, I want you to remain here. Take shots where you’re able but let us do the heavy lifting.”

Garrus landed directly on top of the first asshole, letting his weight do most of the work. With a sickening crack, the batarian buckled. And Garrus finished him off with a quick round to the head. Before the others could react, he snatched the closest to him and proceeded to use the man as a live shield while firing into the fray. When there was a break in gunfire, Ripper leaped, one hand wielding a shotgun the other slicing through soft flesh with his glowing omni-tool.

“Got one!” Frank hollered triumphantly over the coms as the last hostile fell to the ground.

“Keep it in your pants Frank.” Ripper snarked. 

“A headshot.” Garrus nodded. “Good work everyone. Now let’s see what we have.” The batarian in question was badly wounded, laying still as a statue. “Spirits, he’s barely breathing.”

“Whaddya think he did?” Ripper strode up next to him. “Only batarians I ever knew was in the Suns. But I never saw ‘em go after one of their own before.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Garrus waved his hand dismissively. “He’ll be dead within the hour if we don’t get him to a doctor. We’re heading to the Gozu District. I know a guy. I’ll take point, you two are going to have to carry him.”

Frank groaned. “If someone told me I was gonna kill my back for a batarian last week, I’d have laughed in their face.”

“You can’t always judge an individual by their species, Butler. A good friend taught me that. Hell, I wound up friends with a krogan as a result.” Garrus chuckled to himself. As his squad hoisted up their wounded cargo, his mind wandered to The Normandy’s crew. Where were they now? How were they doing? Maybe he should shoot them an email later when they were back home. And that was the odd thing, over the past month, he started considering their base of operations home. That was in no small part due to Nalah’s efforts. The day after Frank joined, she waltzed in and began cleaning, organizing, and decorating. She insisted on completing the menial tasks such as cooking and laundry. It was her way of contributing she’d said. That woman had a heart of gold, and brought a softer touch to their grisly work.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Just as before, a squadron of mechs greeted them at the entrance to the clinic. Garrus removed his helmet and strode confidently up to the camera. “Hey! Remember me? I’ve got another one for you to fix up doc.” He gestured to the limp batarian his squad was setting down. 

Since his last visit, Garrus had done extensive reconnaissance on the enigmatic doctor. A couple weeks back, he came to the Gozu district alone, hoping to offer the clinic protection. Instead, he wound up witnessing an armed standoff between the salarian who ran the clinic and several Blue Suns trying to squeeze him for protection money. The doctor gunned them down in a manner of seconds. Given that they were turians, well armored, and clearly ready for a fight Garrus was impressed. Then the doctor decapitated them and set their heads on pikes. After that, he made sure he and his men steered clear of the entire district.

“Yes. Yes. Remember you. Come in. Bring him to the back. Assistant asleep.”

The doors to the clinic hissed open. 

“Alright guys. He may seem friendly. But this guy is no joke. Keep your weapons secured. Yet watch for my signal, just in case.” Garrus whispered.

“Wouldn’t that mean the opposite?” Butler responded incredulously. “If he’s trouble, we should have our guns out and ready right?”

“Not this guy. There’s a reason we don’t bother with the Gozu District. Let’s just say he has things under control.”

“You’re the boss. But I gots to say, I don’t like walkin’ into anythin’ with my gun holstered.” Ripper ran a hand through his curls, a gesture Garrus had learned translated to nervousness.

“He won’t harm us unless we give him reason to. And if he gives us reason, I’m ready and I have your backs.”

The clinic was dark, ominous. Their feet echoed on the hard, lonely ground. It certainly did nothing to help his men’s morale. Garrus could practically feel them tense as they made their way down a long, narrow hallway. Suddenly a door to their right burst open, and they were practically blinded as light poured in.

“In here! In here!” The salarian called. “Place patient on exam table.” They obliged, setting the limp body down on the only flat surface in the room. 

Garrus watched intently as his long, nimble fingers flew over the batarian. Working at a remarkable pace, the doctor began patching various wounds and applying medication via his omni-tool. He was finished within minutes. 

“Should be fine. Should be fine. Administered analgesic. Will be sedated as result. Friend of yours Archangel?”

Garrus stiffened. “You’ve heard of me?”

“Vigilante taking out dangerous people.” The salarian nodded vigorously to convey his approval. “Active in Kima, Kenzo, and more recently Zeta District. Many patients are fans. Tell me of your exploits. Most entertaining.” A grin ghosted across his face, reaching his large, alien eyes. He blinked and inhaled deeply before abruptly returning to his makeshift lab.

“Can’t say I know the guy. He was taking a beating. We intervened.”

“Surprising. Turian – Batarian relations strained. Have recruited human squad. Human – Batarian relations even worse.”

“Yeah. Well, the assholes take us as slaves!” Frank blurted.

“Exactly. Very surprising. But welcome. Now, need to synthesize antibiotic for scale itch. Rampant on station. Implications troubling.”

“We’ll get out of your hair doctor.” As Garrus motioned for his squad to leave, he could feel those immense, alien eyes on him, studying him. It made his plates itch. Something he had said earned the doctor’s intense focus. He couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woot! I'm going home in two days. Things are starting to get back to normal. It only took a month and a half. With how bad things were, I was expecting to be here the rest of the year but we were extremely fortunate. I just wanted to thank all the people who reached out to me while I was evacuated. It really cheered me up! Hopefully everyone is alright. Those fires are all over the West Coast now.


	23. Checking In

To: Talizorah_nar_Rayya@migrantfleet.org  
From: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com   
3-26-84 02:21

Hey Tali,

I hope this reaches you. Does your email change if you get a new ship name? Now I’m really wishing I had asked. I finally set up a secure channel at my new place. Things are shaping up here. The Citadel didn’t work out, I’m sure you’ve heard. But the council is denying the reaper threat. So, screw them right?

Believe it or not, I’m a freelance ass kicker in the Terminus Systems. It’s pretty rewarding work. I killed two guys with one shot last week. Wish you could’ve seen it!

Shoot me an update sometime,

Garrus

* * *

  
To: LiaraT2145@SerriceUniversity.edu  
From: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
3-26-84 02:45

Hi Liara,

How have you been? We never got to say goodbye. Hope you’re doing alright. I wound up leaving the Citadel too. So, I guess you had the right idea.

Hit me up sometime,

Garrus

* * *

  
To: Kalenko@AllianceMailNetwork.org  
From: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
3-26-84 03:02

Kaiden,

How are things shaking these days? Are you still with the Alliance? I left Citadel Space after what those assholes did. Let me know if you plan on heading to the Terminus Systems sometime. Maybe we can grab a beer.

Garrus

* * *

Garrus hesitated. Should he try writing Wrex? Would the old krogan even want to hear from him? Did Tuchanka have the extranet? Wrex made it sound like a world stuck in ancient times where many dwellings didn’t even have power. Either way, what harm could possibly come from contacting him?

To: GiantSpaceMonster998@citadelmail.com  
From: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
3-26-84 03:29

Hey Wrex,

Have you been longing for your favorite turian? Life just not the same without me? 

How are things on Tuchanka? I don’t know what the news situation is there, but the citadel wound up denying that the reapers exist. So, I quit and left for the Terminus Systems. I’m doing a lot of odd jobs, mostly mercenary-type work. It’s all very scandalous. I haven’t heard from anyone else on the team. Have you?

Garrus

* * *

Garrus closed his omni-tool and let himself sink into the couch. This place was beginning to feel like home, certainly. The Butlers and Ripper were his people. But he missed The Normandy, her crew, and Shepard terribly. 

He had been hoping to acquire more intel regarding the slave trade by now. There were plenty that needed liberation in Omega’s eezo mines. However, he wasn’t insane. Taking on Aria T’loak was off the table. Besides, if his information was correct, every miner on Omega had sold themselves into slavery to work off their debts. The asari prettied it up by calling it ‘indentured servitude’ but at least the slaves had landed themselves in that situation unlike Brian or Jane.

His omni-tool began chiming. Garrus jumped, hoping for a reply from one of his former team members. Yet, when he answered the face of the brown and white salarian doctor filled his screen.

“Archangel?”

“Yes? Wait, how did you get this number?”

“Doesn’t matter! Your batarian friend asked me to initiate contact. He wants to help.”

“With what?”

The salarian blinked, clearly surprised by the question. “With mission of course. No time. Come to clinic.”

“Look, I’m not even sure how you got my number….”

“Suspicious. Good. Keeps you alive! Come to clinic. You will be pleased.”

The call ended and Garrus groaned. He was on watch duty for the remainder of the night, keeping an eye on the surprise entrances under their base. While he didn’t fully trust the doctor, the salarian had proven useful and sympathetic to his cause. At the very least, he should hear this offer out. Although, he was taking both his men and a god-damned grenade launcher this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those wondering why Garrus and Wrex’s emails have the same suffix, it’s just a standard email service anyone who visits the citadel can sign up for. It’s not C-Sec specific. Tuchanka isn’t advanced enough to bother with their own servers.


	24. A Scheme In The Making

**March 26th 2184 CE 04:21**

  
“Alright. This time, we’re approaching the doctor a bit more discreetly. Those damn cameras and mechs mean I can’t sneak you two into the clinic through the front doors.” Garrus pulled up a map on his omni-tool. “However, there is a point of entry through the air ducts you two can reach via the ramparts. You’ll have a perfect view of the doctor’s exam room.”

“I don’t get it.” Butler protested. “He was fine the last time we met. Why are you paranoid all of a sudden?”

“A good dose of healthy paranoia has kept me alive through unthinkable situations. There’s more to this doctor than meets the eye. Not to mention the fact, he somehow contacted me directly despite never exchanging information with him and my omni-tool is heavily encrypted. Unlike our other encounters, he chose the place and time for our meeting. And I have no idea where his loyalties lie.”

“You think it’s a trap boss?” Ripper interjected.

“No. But I want to be prepared just in case. Only reveal yourselves on my signal or if they decide to try and blow my head off. I’d appreciate some backup in that scenario.”

* * *

* * *

* * *

  
Garrus waited, hidden from the clinic’s cameras until his team was in position. His affirmation came in the form of two distinct ticks over the coms. Not wanting to appear overconfident, Garrus cautiously approached the clinic’s doors with his rifle out. “Alright doc. I’m here. But I’m not holstering my weapon. Play nice and I won’t shoot.”

“Most unusual request.”

“I won’t cause any trouble unless you give me reason.”

“Have overflow. Need to move patients from halls. Will not accept threat to them. Not from anyone.”

“Very well.”

After nearly twenty minutes, the doors hissed open and Garrus was greeted by the same young man he met during his first encounter with the clinic. He followed him inside and down the hall to the exam room. The doctor was preoccupied at his lab station, carefully measuring some sort of yellow substance. Garrus wondered if it was an acid strong enough to melt through turian hide, there was no way this guy would let anyone have the upper hand. 

Straight ahead sitting awkwardly in a cheap, folding chair was the batarian they had rescued from the brink of death a few days earlier. Now that his gaze had moved from the salarian, he could feel those scrutinizing, alien eyes on him. Watching. Waiting. _I knew it. But I have a few surprises of my own should you try anything._

“I’m told I have you to thank for my life.” The batarian’s four eyes swiveled to meet his gaze. “And that you’re gunning for slavers, mercs, and red sand dealers.”

“You could say that.”

“I have a proposal then. There’s this asshole I want dead, name’s Thralog Mirki’it”

“Let me be blunt.” Garrus cut him off. “I am not a hired killer. The guys I put down have it coming. And I choose my own targets.”

“This guy fits the bill. I promise you that.”

“I’ll need more than the word of a man I know nothing about.”

“Take your time and check him out yourself then. Take weeks. I don’t fucking care. All I ask is that I’m there when you kill him. Prove you can do it, and I’m your man. I can hack almost anything. I promise you, I’ll be the best engineer you’ve ever fucking had.”

“Assuming this guy...”

“A red sand dealer. The nastiest SOB you’ve ever fucking met.”

“Assuming this guy fits the criteria,” Garrus raised his voice. “You’re simply offering up your services free of charge? I don’t even know who you are. So start talking. Convince me you’re worth my time and effort, not just for your skills but your loyalty as well.”

The batarian narrowed his eyes. Silence fell between them but Garrus refused to budge. Finally, seeing there was no other option he spoke. “Grundan Krul’s my name. I served with The Hegemony. Those men you saved me from were some of Thralog Mirki’it’s. I’ve been trying to kill him for months. But clearly, I can’t do it alone. You help me, I help you.”

“I hope you realize I put down slavers. I don’t recruit them.”

“Slavery is part of The Hegemony whether you approve or not, whether its own citizens approve of or even understand the consequences of it or not. I don’t see how our society can move forward without it but I happen to disagree with my people on how they’re treated at least until we figure out another way.”

“Is that so? I don’t see how….”

“Let me finish.” Krul waved his hand in frustration. “Life is precious. Our slaves are, in my opinion, a precious resource and they should be treated with respect. No sapient being deserves those crude control chips or to be driven on by pain and torture.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met a ‘nice’ slaver. But are you saying you won’t have an issue with putting down your own people? Because we will be killing slavers. In fact, I consider it a personal mission of mine.”

“The only slavers worth the oxygen they consume are on Kar’Shan and there ain’t that many of them. I don’t give a flying fuck what you do with the assholes out here.”

“How do I know this is true?”

Krul’s entire demeanor took on a different tone. His shoulders hunched and all four eyes moved to stare at the ground. “I was dishonorably discharged from the military. My sergeant got his kicks by raping and torturing the female slaves. Well, the squishy ones anyway. Guess I got sick of listening to the screams. One day, I shot him in the back of the head during one of his rutting sessions. You can look it up yourself. I’m wanted for murder in batarian space.”

Garrus lowered his guard, holstered his gun, and leaned against the wall. “That sounds like quite the story. How did you escape?”

“I wasn’t lying. I’m the best engineer The Hegemony ever had. Hacked my way out of my cell. Idiots thought triple encryption would keep me in.”

“So you know your way around batarian coding? Say I wanted you to infiltrate a slaver ship and download the data on their slave holdings, could you do it?”

“You deaf or just slow? Maybe I should shout? I was the best engineer The Hegemony ever fucking had. Yeah I can do it. Don’t know why you’d bother though.”

Garrus scarcely refrained from flicking his eyes in the doctor’s direction. “I’m looking for someone. But this isn’t the place for that kind of conversation.”

* * *

* * *

* * *

As it turned out, Krul was more amicable than Garrus expected. Without protest, he allowed himself to be blindfolded for their journey back to the base. A safety measure Garrus was loathe to ask for, but on Omega, trusting someone without verifying their identity was akin to suicide.

Once they’d arrived home, it took less than thirty minutes before Garrus was certain of Krul’s story. He was listed on The Hegemony’s most wanted list for the ‘grotesque murder of a high ranking official of fine caste.’ Both his picture and DNA identification markers were posted on the extranet in an effort to capture him. It was clear that harboring the batarian would be risky in and of itself. Every bounty hunter with a pulse was after the hefty reward. But hunting down Omega’s most notorious gangs wasn’t for the faint of heart. If this guy was as good as he said, the risk was worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, updates may be a bit slower for the time being. I arrived home to quite the mess. Some of our stuff melted to other stuff, tons of ash, a fridge straight out of a horror show, and a shit-ton of laundry from trying to get the smoke out of our clothes, blankets, etc. etc. And I only post a chapter after I’ve written ahead by one or two. That way I have time to iron out details, proofread, and fix mistakes. That said, it seems like there are more fires (not near me thankfully) and it’s become pretty smokey again. I can’t really do much (lung issues) when the smoke is like that so I might be sitting in front of the air purifier writing. So, updates depend on which way the wind is blowing.
> 
> ====
> 
> I completely missed the last portion of the chapter. So, my bad. I've updated it now though. :)


	25. Thoughts and Prayers

**April 12th 2184 CE 05:02**

“Citing their catastrophic losses during the Battle of The Citadel, the human military requested reinforcements in their defense against batarian slavers in The Verge. The slavers have grown bolder in recent months, taking advantage of the weakened human military. The Asari Republic, Turian Hierarchy, and Salarian Union deeply regretted not being capable of becoming involved in a purely human matter.”

Garrus snatched the old, S-5 radio and smashed it against the wall. Bits of shattered plastic rained down over his nightstand. _What a perfect start to my morning. The artificial lights aren’t even on yet and my own people are betraying humanity._

Even with their forces depleted, The Alliance was putting up one hell of a fight against the batarians. But that was little comfort to Garrus. Turian civilization was about to fall, the reapers were on the horizon. Who knew how much time was left? All they could hope for now was to leave behind a legacy worthy of respect. And today he found himself ashamed of his own kind. “I hope the reapers take you Sparatus.” Garrus growled into the darkness. “You’re the only thing Shepard was ever wrong about.”

He leaned back and allowed himself to slip into memories of his old commander and their frantic run to the Citadel tower. Of Sovereign’s immense legs wrapped around the council chambers, looming over them. Their doom. Their fate should they fail. That day, he gained perspective into why the geth revered the reapers as gods. Sovereign was immense, awe-inspiring and terrifying to the very core. 

They hauled ass through maintenance and elevator shafts, blowing away Saren’s minions blocking their path. It was chaos. At one point they were surrounded, the defense grid was proving deadly. Rockets shot from turrets the geth had set up, keeping them pinned with ground troops inching closer and closer. But there was Shepard, a man made of steel and fire bellowing into the gunfire, making them believe. “Just keep shooting. We’re gonna blow that monster straight to hell. Just keep shooting.” If there was one thing he learned serving on a human ship it was to never lose hope. When things looked grim, when victory seemed impossible, their indomitable determination kept them and everyone around them fighting.

Shepard’s people deserved better than this. Shepard deserved better than this. So, what are you going to do about it? 

Garrus spun up his omni-tool and immediately checked his inbox. Not one team member from The Normandy had responded so far. And this morning was proving no different. At least there was still time for a decent breakfast before his men would be up for routine drills. He walked to the kitchen, poured himself a bowl of BlastOhs and snagged a protein bar. To his surprise, Krul was already awake munching on what Butler called a banana.

“Morning.” Garrus nodded towards the batarian. A grunt was his only response. “I see you’re as cheerful as ever.”

“It’s the ass crack of dawn Castor. My sunny disposition doesn’t come in until a saner hour.” Krul growled.

Garrus simply chuckled. “Who’s to say I don’t enjoy you just the way you are?”

All four batarian eyes rolled in annoyance.

“In all seriousness though. I have something to ask you.”

“Shoot.”

“I’d like to pick your brain a bit regarding how to go about hacking batarian slave records.”

“Pretty simple. They rarely use more than one layer of encryption.”

“But how do I get my talons on it?”

Krul blinked. “This about that mystery person you’re looking for?” 

“Yeah. Actually.”

“And? What? Don’t trust me?”

“It’s not that Krul. This is just… not my secret to tell. But I suppose you deserve the truth. Hell, I doubt you could help without it.”

Garrus paused, trying to articulate the words. “She’s the kid sister of an old friend of mine. He died in a geth attack while searching for her.”

“I’ll need a lot more than that.”

“I have it. We tracked her to The Rotund but they sold her off in the past couple years. That’s where the trail goes cold. But I have her slave ID 1182. So tell me, what can you do with that?”

“Knew some of the bastards on The Rotund. Kill ‘em?”

“Every last one.”

“Good.” The batarian hissed and clenched his fists. 

“Focus Krul.”

“Yeah. Yeah I’m thinking.” Grundan rolled his shoulders and leaned back in the chair. “What species? If she’s turian you’re probably fucked. They’re rarely aboard star ships. They sell those off fast to mining asteroids. You’ll never get close.”

“Human actually.”

“Hmm. If you could get a long range transmitter on board, I should be able to hack their communications.”

“I have no idea which ship she’s on now.”

“Obviously. Let me explain. The Rotund would regularly sell cast offs to small scouting vessels, the human ones anyway. They like to poke around Alliance Space under the radar, testing colony defenses.”

“And?”

“They all use the same frequency. Hack one vessel and you’ll hack them all. Then, I write a program - a listening device that’ll ping us if there are any mentions of an 1182.”

Garrus stared hard and long at the man in front of him. “If you pull this off Krul, I’ll owe you a lot.”

“You realize she’s going to be in real bad shape? This whole thing is probably futile. At best, she’s chipped. At worst, she’s dead. They go through ‘em fast on those vessels.”

“I know. But honestly, this is less about saving the girl and more about honoring my friend. I have to try.”

“Whatever you say. When are we going after that Thralog bastard?”

“I remember our deal, but if it’s alright with you I’d like to get this plan moving first. Once we start hitting high profile targets, the less capable we’ll be of slipping under the radar. Besides, how many slaver ships do business with him? I’m guessing quite a few.”

Krul groaned. “I see your point. Alright Castor, I’m trusting you on this.”

“I won’t forget this. You have my word. Thralog will get what’s coming to him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I lied again. It seems every time I think I won't have time/energy to write the exact opposite happens.


	26. Fuzzy Bunny

**April 19th 2184 CE 19:00**

Despite some initial tension between Butler and Krul, his team was coming along nicely. Every morning at 06:30 they ran drills, target practice, and hand to hand techniques. Butler’s aim had drastically improved but his physical endurance was continuing to lag. For now, Garrus had him in the back ranks. If he could get his talons on a few Alliance Standard Genetic Enhancements, Frank’s sniper skills would drastically improve. Yet, he hadn’t been on Omega long enough to have contacts who dealt in black market goods. For now, Butler’s aim was decent enough for their various shenanigans. But he didn’t like their chances against a casino full of blood thirsty red sand dealers, even if the element of surprise was on their side. Garrus sighed and closed the terminal he’d been using to research Thralog Mirki’it. Krul was an ass 99% the time but he was an honest one. Thralog operated out of a casino in The Kima district, and was directly responsible for the deaths and enslavement of dozens of unsuspecting youths on Omega. He deliberately hooked people on his poison by offering free samples of what he claimed was a benign party drug, ‘no more harmful than alcohol with none of the calories.’ Those who survived long enough to bankrupt themselves were quickly sold into slavery. One day soon, when his mission in Shepard’s honor was finished and he had enough men at his back, Thralog would pay for every family he destroyed.

Garrus meandered into the living area and settled into their new sofa while Butler and Krul argued over which channel they’d watch. He switched on his omni-tool and immediately checked his inbox. No replies. Damn. Maybe he should try Joker. The pilot clearly hadn’t cared for him much but at the very least he should check in.

* * *

To: Jmoreau@AllianceMailNetwork.org  
From: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
4-19-84 19:12

Hey Joker,

What’s up? Still with The Alliance? I’m in the Terminus Systems now. I tried contacting the rest of the team, but no one responded. Have you heard anything?

Garrus.

* * *

“I just said channel twelve you four eyed twat.” Butler roared.

“And when you can beat me on the range, I’ll change it. Until then, I’m watching The Ragers vs The Bruisers.”

“No one wants to see a bunch of batarians beat each other with sticks. Gimme that remote!”

“I believe you agreed to that wager Frank.” Garrus barely stifled a chuckle.

“Don’t remind me.”

His omni-tool pinged. 

* * *

From: YourBigDaddi24@citadelmail.com  
To: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com

I don’t use that email anymore. Meet me on messenger. I’m FuzzyBunny96.

Joker

* * *

Even if this wasn’t who he was looking forward to hearing from, Garrus’s heart leaped in anticipation. It’d be great to hear how anyone from the team was doing. He quickly logged on.

GV: Joker?

FB96: What? Expecting Sovereign Garrus?

GV: You secure? Talking about mission parameters on an unsecured channel is against regulations.

FB96: Fuck your regulations. No one will listen anyway.

GV: I take it you know about the council’s betrayal.

FB96: I’m not surprised. 

GV: What are you up to?

FB96: Getting drunk off my A$$

GV: What’s the occasion? By the way, have you heard from the rest of the team?

FB96: Not one. And there is no occasion. Let’s just say I’ve been doing a lot of drinking lately.

GV: What do you mean?

FB96: The Alliance Assholes grounded me. No one will give the cripple a chance to fly. Now I’m back on Tiptree with my thumb up my ass

GV: Yikes. That’s rough. You were discharged? Why not try civilian flying?

FB96: Oh yeahhhhhhhh lemme just start shuttling jackasses from point A to B. I’d rather drive a fucking school bus. But I wasn’t discharged. They tried putting me behind a desk. I left those assholes on my own accord.

GV: What’s a school bus? That didn’t translate right.

FB96: Try the extranet. And update your damn translator.

GV: Such a charmer.

FB96: Yeah whatever. Hey, let me know if you hear from anyone on the team. 

GV: Will do. But I’m in the dark, same as you.

FB96: By the way, what are you doing in The Terminus Systems? Weren’t you supposed to be a spectre by now?

GV: Kicking ass and taking names. I’m done with council after what they pulled.

FB96: Can’t say I blame you. Well, I have to run before my sister completely wrecks my flight sim.

GV: See ya

Garrus switched the chat off and pulled up his traffic monitor. For the past week, he’d been closely watching ship traffic in and out of the Omega Nebula. There was an abundance of slaver ships that docked to refuel, repair, and grab a few unsuspecting victims. The most difficult part of this mission was refraining from obliterating the assholes. But he didn’t want to do anything that could jeopardize his goal. Any scouting vessel worth their salt would steer clear of the station if it was no longer a safe haven for slavers and their ilk. Ironically, the one ‘good’ thing about Omega was the sheer magnitude of slavers who did business on the station. There was certainly no shortage. And today may just be his lucky day.

“Krul?”

“Yeah?”

“Look here. There’s a small vessel, the Yu’Char, scheduled for retrofits in three days. They’re docking by the eezo mines. This the ship class we’re looking for?”

“Yeah. That’ll do. But how are you going to get on? I’d be recognized in a heartbeat.”

He wiggled his mandibles in a sly smile. “I have a few ideas.”


	27. You've Got Mail Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I’ve been debating how to handle emails and/or messenger conversations. And I decided to post them as mini-chapters since they don’t always fit into the regular ones.

From: GiantSpaceMonster998@citadelmail.com  
To: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
4-20-84 20:22

  
Turian!

Finally set up the extranet at my place. What? You think we got fancy shit like power everywhere on Tuchanka? But I figure I should keep up with current events so I busted my hump running wires through a fucking cave. You have no idea how many explosives that took.

So, you’re gonna be a merc? Never thought I’d see the day. Can’t say I don’t approve though. Spent some of my best years working as a mercenary. I heard about the council bull shit a few hours ago. If they ever come here, I’ll be sure to roast them real slow over the spit. Say, what do you think Sparatus tastes like? 

Well, I gotta run. Some krogan need killing if I want to make it to chief. I gotta get these fools to fall in line somehow.

Say, you hear from Tali? I wonder how that kid’s doing with everything going on.

Wrex

* * *

To: GiantSpaceMonster998@citadelmail.com  
From: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
4-20-84 20:29

Hey Wrex,

Finally. I was starting to think the whole team just dropped into oblivion. No, I haven’t heard from Tali but I talked to Joker the other day. He left the Alliance and seems to be following in your footsteps; he’s quite the functional alcoholic by the sounds of it. So you’re chief now? Sweet. 

I’ve got my own squad. We had our first successful raid last week. Busted up a small slaver ring preying on Omega’s poor. There were nine guys total. My tech expert killed two with electrical shocks alone. Bad way to go but I have to say, I was impressed.

Garrus

* * *

  
From: GiantSpaceMonster998@citadelmail.com  
To: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
4-21-84 21:34

Turian,

No I’m not chief yet. But I will be. I’m bringing the krogan to glory once again whether they like it or not. 

Tech expert? What, did you kidnap a quarian or something?

* * *

To: GiantSpaceMonster998@citadelmail.com  
From: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
4-21-84 21:36

Should I be alarmed? Why wouldn’t the other krogan like it? And there is no kidnapping. He’s a batarian believe it or not.

* * *

From: GiantSpaceMonster998@citadelmail.com  
To: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
4-21-84 21:39

They don’t like it because these krogan are a bunch of short-sighted morons. They just don’t understand how much the galaxy has changed, but they will, even if it kills me. 

Don’t get your quads in a twist kid. You only have something to worry about if you get in the way. 

A batarian huh? I ran with a few in my mercenary days. 

Well, I can smell a nasty storm rolling in. So, I’ll probably lose connection in a few minutes. 

* * *

  
To: GiantSpaceMonster998@citadelmail.com  
From: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
4-21-84 21:41

I have to get ready for another job anyhow. Wish me luck, it’s for a good cause.

* * *

From: GiantSpaceMonster998@citadelmail.com  
To: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
4-21-84 21:43

Don’t ask for luck, only ammo kid.


	28. Nothing's Ever Simple

**April 22nd 05:39 2184 CE**

“Just to be sure I gots this right, you’s goin’ in alone?” Ripper asked incredulously. His unkempt curls hung over his eyes. 

“Yes. This is a stealth mission. The Yu’Char shouldn’t have more than a dozen men. While we could easily take them out, it wouldn’t serve our purposes.” Garrus responded as if he were talking about what he was ordering for lunch. 

“They get so much as a whiff of an alien on-board, they’ll run a thorough sweep and our bug will be detected.” Krul stated bluntly. 

“Your job is to watch my back.” Garrus interjected, taking control of the conversation. “I want all three of you perched in prime sniper locations around the docking area. Anyone tries to board behind me, take them out quick and quiet. Be sure to dispose of the bodies so no one’s the wiser. If any targets turn out to be crewmen, don’t panic. Most likely, their disappearance will be blamed on the rough streets of Omega. But do not, I repeat do not fire on the captain. We need him alive. Krul is familiar with The Hegemony’s uniform and will be able to identify ranks.”

“Oh goodie.” Frank groaned.

“You have something to add Butler?” 

“Uh, no sir!”

“So what’s we gonna do if the captain himself shows his ugly mug?” Ripper asked.

“Signal me then let him pass. I’ll just have to figure out a way to slip past him when I disembark.” Garrus added casually. “This should be a pretty simple mission. I sneak onboard, plant the transponder, and leave before anyone’s the wiser. Ripper?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re in command while I’m onboard. I want no heroics from any of you understood?”

* * *

* * *

The docks by the eezo mines were a dirty, disheveled mess. Pathetic looking indentured servants labored away below their perch in the rafters. Once his team was situated high above the docking bay, Garrus descended and crept into the airlock of the Yu’Char. 

When the doors hissed open, he immediately found himself in a long, narrow hallway lined with sleeper pods. According to Krul, small-time scouting ships like this one should be single decked. The simple, compact design would make navigating the unfamiliar halls easy. Yet, it offered little opportunity to hide should he stumble into an enemy. As he passed through the sleeping area, a blood curdling scream nearly stopped him in his tracks. Glancing down one of the side passageways, he spotted a naked human woman on her knees while a batarian with a long, nasty looking whip laid into her. Her dark, disheveled hair swayed with each crack. She was covered in sweat and blood. Garrus could hear the sickening squelch of skin ripping open, interrupted only by her wracked sobs. Instinctually, his trigger hand reached for the rifle strapped to his back, yet before he fully unholstered the weapon he went still as a statue. _If I rescue this woman, every scouting vessel in The Hegemony will be on alert. Krul’s bug will be discovered and we’ll never reach Jane. But what if Krul is right? What if rescuing her is pointless and he sacrifices this woman for nothing? Every batarian-owned human slave he’d come across so far was shaved bald. This woman could be new and un-chipped. Could he turn his back on her? Could he live with himself?_

 _Spirits damn you Shepard. I can’t believe I’m doing this_. As much as it pained him, Garrus turned and continued his search for the cockpit. When this was over, he vowed Omega’s streets would run red with slaver blood. The war he planned on waging would be brutal, merciless, and strike fear in the hearts of slavers for generations to come. He clenched his trembling hand to his side, the woman’s cries grew fainter with every step. Eventually, he reached a circular room housing flight controls and dual seats for the pilot and co-pilot. He quickly attached the small transponder beneath the pilot’s chair and turned to leave.

“Uh, boss?” Ripper whispered over the com.

“What is it?” Garrus hissed, his voice a low rumble. The turian version of whispering.

“Captain incoming. He has a couple friends too.”

“Thanks for the heads-up.”

Garrus raced back to the hallway and slipped behind a sleeper-pod. The fit was tight and his cowl protested against the pressure as he squeezed between the pod and wall. One hard glance in the wrong direction and he’d be detected.

It appeared two lower ranking batarians were arguing with each other as they trailed a third who was storming ahead. “I just said….”

“Oh fuck you and yours!”

“Men! That’s enough of your shit. Go clean the fucking latrines. You cost me my shore leave.” A batarian Garrus guessed was the captain bellowed.

“Sir! Yes Sir.”

“And if you two lose your tempers on my watch again, do me a fucking favor and space yourselves. OH FOR FUCKS SAKE. Private!? The fuck is this!?”

Garrus could hear someone stumbling around in the other room, clearly caught off guard. 

“I..I..I..I uh..”

“Whatever. Hose her down and go scrub the latrines with your moron compatriots. I don’t wanna see your willy ever again understand!?”

“Sir yes sir.” The private grabbed a bald woman and dragged her down the passageway. On the back of her head, Garrus could see a jagged scar extending from ear to ear. 

“Fucking kids rutting like roth-dashi. I don’t get paid enough for this shit.” The captain muttered to himself, unaware of his turian guest capable of hearing every word. 

Much to Garrus’s dismay, the captain didn’t seem to have plans to vacate the passageway between himself and freedom. Instead, the batarian restlessly paced up and down the hall calling several different contacts and hollering at them for various transgressions. After half an hour, his legs were growing numb yet the blasted batarian continued to blather away.

“Boss?” his com crackled to life.

Unable to answer, he merely tapped the comm twice, signaling for radio silence. 

“You think I give a shit if you're short on creds?” The captain took a long drag from his cigarette. “I’m stuck on the ass-end of Omega until these idiots deliver. Get it done dipshit.”

The rapist private, having finished with his latrine-scrubbing duty approached the captain. “Orders sir?” 

“Go get us a couple more slaves.”

“Uhm where?”

“Don’t care.”

“How?”

“Do I look like you’re mommy private? Figure it the fuck out.”

“Yes of course. I...”

“Women only. You know the drill.”

“No vorcha? We could use some firepower on...”

“Are you fucking deaf private?!”

“No sir!”

“Then go. Now. Two women. Human. I don’t want to bother with biotic inhibitors so pass on Asari.”

After the private skittered off, Garrus found himself wedged between the pod and wall for yet another hour. All feeling had left his legs but he was too concerned about discovery to shake them back to life. _Well this is just great. Worst case scenario I can shoot my way out but then this whole operation is a bust and I left that woman to these scum for nothing._

Suddenly, as if summoned by the spirits themselves, a massive explosion rocked the entire ship. The captain bolted upright, completely forgetting about whomever he was chewing out on the other end of his com and raced for the airlock. The blast must have originated from the space station, a ship this small would be eviscerated by an explosion like that. Garrus swore under his breath, and rushed towards the exit. At the last second, he spun around and headed back to where he last saw the dark haired slave. He found her chained to the floor, alone and shivering. Her damp hair clung to her face, her body curled on the cold, hard floor. “Hey there.”

She startled and for a moment simply stared at him. “Who are you?”

“Someone who’s here to help. Can you walk?” 

“I… yes I think so. Not gonna ask what a turian is doing on a batarian ship if you get me out of here.”

“Crap. I need something to smash that lock. But I have to use… ah! Here this will work.” He snatched a wrench, forgotten behind the gun cleaning table. “Sorry, uh, I don’t have any clothes.”

“I really don’t care. I just want to go home.” She sobbed clutching at the chain.

“I promise. I’ll bring you home. Now, scoot back.” Once the lock lay broken at his feet, he wiped down the wrench and offered it up to the woman. “I just need you to grab this.”

She simply gave him a puzzled yet wary look.

“In case they investigate, I need it to look like you escaped on your own.”

* * *

* * *

  
Immediately after disembarking the Yu’Char, Garrus was greeted by wanton destruction. Metal beams criss-crossed where they fell, flaming garbage circled overhead as the vents blew them every which way. It looked like a storm had torn through the docking bay. He quickly checked the perimeter for the captain or any of his men. Seeing that the coast was clear he pulled the woman along behind him, hoping against all hope his team hadn’t been discovered. Perhaps the blast was a clever diversion on their part. It had certainly been convenient.

Months of scaling buildings and swinging from rafter to rafter had left Garrus with impeccable climbing skills. Within seconds, he wrapped one arm around the woman’s waist and hauled her to their perch using the ascension cable and grappling hook he’d come to know so well.

“About time.” Krul growled as Garrus landed.

“Had to wait out the captain as he yelled at half the damn Hegemony. Was that blast you guys?”

“Nah not us but we’re all good here. I.. wait, what’s with the naked chick?” Ripper turned his attention to the woman Garrus suddenly realized was not only bare as the day she was born but his arm was still around her. Fast as lightening he withdrew the offending appendage. 

“Uh...this is… Miss I apologize… I uhh.. What’s you’re name?”

“Olivia. Not that it matters. Who the hell are you guys?” She crossed her arms, shivering. 

Ripper shimmied out of his leather jacket and covered the woman’s bare shoulders. “The Archangel squad. We’re cleaning up Omega one dickwad at a time.”

“I heard rumors about a crazy vigilante. That’s…. y-you?”

Garrus chuckled to himself. “Yeah. That’s me. And this is my team. Now, Miss Olivia you should be seen by a doctor...”

“No. I’m fine. I just want to go home.”

“You should really...”

“Home please. I can go to the doctor tomorrow if I need. But I should be fine. They only had me a few hours.”

Ripper sidled over with an omnitool full of medigel. “Here, this’ll help. How’d they get ya anyhow?”

“I was walking home from work, took a stupid shortcut I guess. Thought it’d be safer to avoid the vorcha shootout happening on the main street.” She pulled the coat around her tightly and visibly relaxed as the medigel set in, soothing her wounds. “Thank you…. That feels much better.”

“We’re going to do something about the pathetic state of this station.” Garrus growled.

* * *

* * *

  
Once Olivia was safely behind her apartment door, Garrus and his team patrolled the area around the home. Ripper had given the young woman his omni-number and offered to walk her to and from work, which she eagerly accepted. Once satisfied that no undesirables were lurking near her apartment, they began the trek back to base. Garrus was keen to test out Krul’s listening device. At the very least, he’d be capable of acquiring some information on their operations and stop these slave grabs before they had the opportunity to torture their victims. 

However, when they turned the market’s corner, Garrus abruptly motioned for his men to halt. This whole area was making his plates itch. The feeling that something was off crept along his spine. They were being followed. He was sure of it. A shadow moved on the very edge of his vision, and he leaped in front of his squad protectively. “Show yourself.” Garrus ordered into the darkness.

“Don’t shoot! My intentions are friendly.” A high pitched voice answered. 

“I’ll be the judge of that. Come out with your hands up.”

The owner of the voice, a green salarian with a striking yellow face pattern, strode confidently out of the alleyway hands above his head.

“Why are you following us?”

“Wanted to speak with you. Can see Archangel is impervious to sneaking. Good.”

“Odd way to request a conversation.” Unwilling to take a chance with his men’s lives, Garrus kept his pistol trained on the salarian’s heart.

“Well my opener was that little show in the docking bay.” 

“That was you?”

“Looked like you could use a hand.” The salarian’s grin spread from one enormous eye to the other. His entire demeanor was practically jovial. “I’d like to join up. This seemed better than sending a resume.”

Garrus chuckled and holstered his pistol. “Alright then. You’ve got my attention. Ripper?”

“Yeah?”

“Head back to base. Looks like this salarian and I need to have a talk.”

* * *

* * *

  
A couple hours and a new salarian squad mate later, Garrus was sitting in the kitchen watching Krul fiddle with a decrepit looking, VI-powered radio.

“You sure that thing is going to work? It looks ancient.”

Krul released a harsh, bitter laugh. “The Hegemony doesn’t bother with new tech. We’re so outdated it’s ludicrous.”

“That’s not what I’ve heard.”

“It’s all bull Castor. The Hegemony is made up of a bunch of criminals as far as I’m concerned. Fucking pieces of shit are fucking over my people.”

“Focus Krul.”

“I am focused.” He hissed. “So who’s the new guy?”

“Sensat. He’s an explosives expert.”

“You don’t say.” The comment was practically dripping with sarcasm.

“He seems to be fitting in well enough.” Garrus glanced over to the living area where both Ripper and Butler were completely enraptured by some elaborate tale the salarian was weaving.

“It’s done.” With a single button press, the device sprung to life. At least a dozen voices were speaking simultaneously. “Every time someone makes a call from the Yu’Char, the transponder will infect the receiver’s device with my virus. That captain’s pretty chatty. We’re already eavesdropping on fourteen different ships. This VI will then filter through the chatter and signal us of any mentions of 1182. If she’s out there, this will find her.”

“Krul… I… thank you.” Garrus could scarcely believe this plan was coming together. Before meeting Grundan, he never thought it’d be possible to complete Shepard’s mission and give the commander a proper send off. But here they were, on what felt like the cusp of victory.

“Yeah, well, see if you feel that way when we find her. How long has she been a slave anyhow?”

“Spirits, nearly fourteen years now.”

“Are you fucking with me?”

“No. Why?”

“You realize the chipping procedure is degenerative? So, even if she responded well to chipping, the chance she’s not some mindless, gibbering lunatic is virtually nil. I’ll never understand why you’re bothering with this.”

Garrus sighed. “That bad huh? Well, I can contact a friend, find her a psych hospital or something. Like I said, this more about honoring my friend anyhow. I don’t like the thought of him dying for nothing.”

“Well, you’re not gonna find whomever she used to be. That person is gone.”


	29. It Shambles In The Dark

**May 1st 2184 CE 03:02**

_Eyes milky white_  
_The stench of death._  
_His mouth frozen agape_  
_Still trying to gasp for breath_  
_Suddenly a moan escapes the cold, stiff corpse_  
_It spurs to life. Its creaky joints twitch in new found animation._  
_A cold dead hand reaches for her throat_

_Eyes accusing._

_“How could you?”_

Liara woke with a shriek. Rain hammered against the large portrait windows of her Ilium apartment. She pulled her legs into her chest, allowing her head to rest against her knees. It wasn't possible right? And if it was possible what would he be like? Would he truly be Shepard? Could science ever defy death? Or did she hand her friend over to something, someone truly evil for no good reason? O _h goddess, What have I done?_

And if he ever did come back, could he forgive her? Love her? Or would he forever see her as the traitor that handed him over to a reclusive terrorist organization? One who had executed a friend and fellow Alliance marine? Shepard avenged Kohaku’s death personally by wiping out several of their sickening projects. The man she knew would never absolve her of this. He was harsh but fair and already she found herself accepting his hatred.

She shuddered. How did Cerberus know about her feelings for him? She often wondered if her emotions clouded her judgment, allowing them to manipulate her. Their experiments crossed every line there was and she just handed over the man she loved like a sack of meat. The memory of Shepard’s bloated carcass laid bare on a cold, hard slab while dozens of Cerberus scientists poked and prodded haunted her every moment. If she had an ounce of decency left in her, she would have taken his body back to The Alliance and let him rest. But she couldn’t be so selfless. She couldn’t lose him.

There would be no more sleep tonight. Liara pulled on a bathrobe and made her way downstairs with the vain hope that some tea would sooth her nerves. Once the kettle was on, she settled into her desk and flicked on the monitor. For now, her primary focus was finding Feron. If he was alive, she didn’t dare dwell on what The Shadow Broker had in store for him.

More messages from Garrus and Kaiden graced her screen. 

To: LiaraT2145@SerriceUniversity.edu  
From: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com

Hey T’soni,

I hope you’re doing alright. My squad is growing. One guy doesn’t have any prior combat experience but it’s nothing I can’t handle. We’re making these thugs think twice before hunting down the innocent using their own methods – obliterate them with overwhelming force. Violence is the only thing these assholes respond to.

Well, don’t get into too much trouble without me there to save your ass.

Garrus

* * *

  
To: LiaraT2145@SerriceUniversity.edu  
Kalenko@AllianceMailNetwork.org 

Liara,

Look, I know this is the third message. And I’m sorry if I’m bothering you. But I can’t get it out of my head – how you left The Citadel. Guess I’m a little worried. You were one of my students and a friend. Just let me know you’re okay? I’ll be heading back undercover in a few days and won’t have access to my email for awhile.

Kaiden

* * *

  
She sighed. Maybe it was cruel refusing to reply, but what could she say? Every time her cursor sat on the screen idly blinking, the words seemed to slip away. It was as futile as cupping water in one’s hand, the liquid would always escape through desperately grasping fingers. She felt like a traitor. Her friends were writing to the woman she once was, not what she had become. Part of her could scarcely believe the things she had done to complete her mission, the people she had sacrificed. And the crazy part was, she’d do it all again – even handing Shepard over to Cerberus. A slim hope was better than none.

Instead, she began secretly spying on her former squadmates. It was her way of looking out for them; that’s what she told herself anyhow. There were various security cams throughout the galaxy she’d acquired access to using her ties as an information broker. Garrus was the most entertaining. The looks on merc’s faces as some crazy turian swooped down out of nowhere and began shooting was priceless. Kaiden’s footage was, to put it bluntly, rather boring. He seemed to be busying himself by filing endless reports and training young biotics. Tali wasn’t showing up on any of her cams, although that wasn’t surprising. The Migrant Fleet was very insular. Obtaining access to their security cameras, if they even had them, would be nearly impossible. Very few had the skills to hack quarian encryption. And those that did were usually quarian themselves. 

For the first time in a long while, Liara felt alone. She had never minded the seclusion of a dig-site. In fact, she thrived on solitude. Yet, that was before Shepard and The Normandy. She was over a century old, but one tour on a human ship had completely changed her perspective.

With a weary sigh, Liara pulled up her latest client file – a wealthy business man looking for a leg-up in his impending divorce. Already she had gathered proof of his ex-wife’s unfaithfulness yet there was evidence the young woman had several off-planet bank accounts. Before making a move, she needed to locate and freeze her accounts. It may not be exciting or life-changing work but it paid the bills and kept her busy. That was all she could do now. Keep busy. Keep the nightmares at bay. And somehow, someway, learn to live with the guilt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Liara. I always felt like she was obviously in love with Shepard throughout the entire trilogy regardless of whether or not you romance her. 
> 
> Anyhow, I realize my updates are coming slower than they used to. This is in part due to the fact I have a crap-ton to do. Before the fires, an enormous tree decimated our home office. (It was a total loss.) We finally finished the basic reconstruction and can use it again so I get more than a few hours sleep at a time. (We live in a one room cabin so it’s hard to get peace and quiet with only one room and drastically varying sleep schedules.) Plus, all the cleanup from the fires is still ongoing. 
> 
> The other reason is because I’m dedicating a lot of the time I have to write towards a blueprint for later chapters. I’m developing a culture/background for certain races along with revamping The Reaper War. Since inspiration can be fickle, I want to write down my ideas and develop some background before it flees. Obviously, it'll be awhile before we reach that point. ;)


	30. This Is For The Ones Who Stand And Try Again

**May 12th 2184 CE 05:36**

Garrus paced excitedly between the kitchen and living room. A mere twenty minutes earlier, the listening device alerted him to a hit on 1182 during a routine slave count. She was on a ship dubbed the Ubralle, and as far as he could tell it was a mining vessel stationed in the Kairvamori star system. Uwan Oche was a batarin run planet riddled with piracy. Yet, it was a well known fact that their manufacturing plants were run on slave labor. The pieces were coming together.

“What’s up boss?” Ripper, flanked by the rest of the team, asked as he made his way downstairs.

“We have a hit on 1182. It’s time we construct a plan and figure out how to lure this ship in.”

“Where are they?” Krul practically yawned into the open air. 

“The Kairvamori Star System. If I could hazard a guess, I’m betting on them orbiting Uwan Oche.”

“Good guess.” The batarian nodded in agreement.

“They’re not far from Omega but we need to figure out how to lure them in. Krul, is there any way we could use your virus to cause a malfunction? She’s on the Ubralle.”

“Never heard of that one but that’s not a bad idea. It shouldn’t be too difficult to re-purpose my virus. However, we’ll lose any ability to listen to their communications once their sensors alert them to the defects. They’ll probably come to Omega but it’s going to be a game of chance. The biggest concern is that they may be on Uwan Oche to sell off slaves. If she’s planetside, we’ll never get close. The second issue is, I can’t actually cause any real damage. So, if they have a halfway decent maintenance crew, it’ll be discovered as a false alarm.”

“Do it. This is our only shot. We’ll just have to hope that they’re more concerned about their ship than selling off any slaves. Sensat, I’m hoping those darts are ready?”

“Yep. Yep. I’ll paint them with the sedative momentarily.” Already, the salarian’s lightning fast fingers were rummaging through his fannie-pack. While it made him look absolutely ludicrous, he never left base without it.

“The rest of you, gear up. We’re all on standby. When Krul is finished and we’re prepped, there are things all of you need to know.” Garrus wouldn’t allow his men’s lives to be put at risk unless they were fully aware of what they were placing themselves in peril for. It was time. 

* * *

* * *

* * *

  
“…. I hope you can understand the need for secrecy. While I refuse to have any one of you going into this blind, I ask for your discretion. Do not use my real name outside of our home base. This will be the most dangerous mission we’ve been on yet. We don’t know how many men are on this ship. And the vessel is unmapped – there isn’t time for that. But it’s a mission that will define who we are, what we stand for. Are we thugs taking out other thugs? Or are we the protectors of the helpless and the downtrodden? Today we decide our future. I have faith in each and every one of you and I know you will make me proud.”

“Suspected you were using false identity, Garrus.” Sensat shrugged, as if the information wasn’t news to him at all. The rest of his squad was floored in one way or another. Ripper and Butler looked like someone had just told them they’d won the lottery. 

“Shepard.” Butler muttered incredulously. “You’re saying you not only served with **The** Commander Shepard, the first human spectre, but today we’re rescuing his long lost sister? Sign me up. A few months ago, my biggest accomplishment was polishing off an entire bottle of mezcal in one night.” He slapped his beer-gut for emphasis.

“Knew you’s was a big shot but this?” Ripper whistled. “This is somethin’ else. Hells yea I want in on this mission!”

“That just leaves you Krul.” Garrus turned to the batarian with a pang of guilt. He never would have reached this point if it weren’t for him. Yet, given Shepard’s history with The Batarians, he wouldn’t be surprised if the man backed out.

Grundan moaned and ran a hand over his bald, four-eyed head. “If you told me a few months back that I’d be rescuing a fucking Shepard, I’d never have believed you. But what the hell? May as well get this over with, maybe earn a few points with The Alliance.”

“I’ll tell them, you know. The unadulterated truth. That none of this would have been possible without you.” Garrus placed a hand on Krul’s shoulder.

“Unless we accidentally blow her up or something. I really don’t want to be remembered as The Batarian that took out Shepard’s little sister. That’ll probably cause a fucking generation of revenge.”

“Then no one will be the wiser. Promise. Alright men, let’s head to the docks. Most likely, The Ubralle will choose Omega for repairs and I want us to be waiting when they pull into port. They’re only a few hours away from us and it’s been 45 minutes since Krul went to town on their sensors.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this and the subsequent chapter were originally one. However, it's becoming way too massive so I'm splitting it up. :) Don't worry I won't leave you hanging too long.... :p


	31. Through Hellfire

**May 12th 2184 CE 07:43**

Every dock aside from Eighty-Two and Fifty-Four was occupied. Garrus split his team up, leaving Sensat and Krul on the North Side with Butler and Ripper covering the South. If the Ubralle came to Omega for repairs, they’d know the second the ship pulled in. They didn’t have to wait long. 

Sensat’s com crackled to life. “Ship incoming.”

“Hold position until we get some identification.”

“Ubralle. Confirmed.”

“On my way.” Garrus nodded to the two humans who’d taken up sniper positions on the catwalks. The trio quickly made for The Northern docks where they laid in wait, well hidden atop their perch. The humans were practically buzzing with anticipation, particularly Butler. Every muscle in the man’s flabby body was taut, his hands rigid against the sniper rifle. Sensat was making some last minute preparations with his grenades. But Krul caught his eye. For the first time since the batarian’s recruitment, Garrus started seeing beyond the school-boy tech persona. He was calm, cool as a cucumber. Garrus had only seen that kind of pre-battle patience in hardened veterans. This was a man who’d seen his share of war and bloodshed.

However, it had been thirty minutes since the Ubralle docked and there was no sign of anyone disembarking. “Damnit.” Garrus hissed. “They must be radioing in maintenance instead of leaving.” As if on cue, two techs, a batarian and a human, strolled towards the Ubralle. “We’re taking these guys prisoner.”

“It’d be easier to just shoot them.” Ripper moaned.

“No civilian casualties. That’s our number one rule. How many darts did you prepare?”

“Twenty each. Have plenty.” Sensat answered.

“Good. Let’s knock these two out then hide them on the catwalks.”

The salarian raised a wooden, cylindrical contraption to his mouth and took aim. With two short, silent puffs the darts nailed their targets. The techs teetered and spun wildly, searching for their assailants. Less than thirty seconds passed before the duo fell unconscious. Once both techs were hidden safely in their former position above the docking bay, Garrus and his men gathered at the Ubralle’s airlock. “Alright. Sensat set the charges. Let’s crack her open. Watch your fire men. Everyone have their dart guns?” Following the murmur of assent, they cleared the blast zone.

Garrus had to hand it to Sensat. Despite being limited by the few crude ingredients he could find and a bare-bones lab setup beneath the base, the man had fabricated some powerful detonators using sulphuric acid, glycerol, rocks, and a cooling procedure. He drilled into the rocks, making room for his volatile mixture. Then he used a gentle cryo-freeze as he meticulously blended and transported the concoction into primitive, makeshift detonators. 

And boy did they get the job done. When the smoke cleared, Garrus could see the airlock hanging at a jagged angle. He pressed into what was left of the door and it completely gave way. “Weapons hot. We’re going in. Remember all batarians on this ship are slavers and part of The Hegemony. Show no mercy for they won’t show you one lick.” 

They were met with immediate resistance. But as luck would have it, the airlock lead into a large room with plentiful, heavy cargo. “Scatter and take cover. I’m on point.” He could feel his men depart, diving behind the various freight. From his position, Garrus spotted three armed men advancing. They moved in coordination, clearly disciplined. _Damnit. These aren’t soft targets. We’ve got soldiers. Well, men time to see what you’re made of. Let’s hope all that training pays off._ He raised his rifle and picked off the first in the pack. As the body fell, the two batarians at his flank hit the floor. “Captain! Hostiles in the cargo bay! It ain’t a malfunction.”

“Put ‘em down.”

 _Fat chance_. Garrus lunged from behind cover and landed gracefully on one’s neck. He squeezed the trigger with the muzzle of his gun laid against the batarian’s temple. Clumps of gray and red showered across the floor. The third fell with a thud, taken out with a perfect head-shot by one of his team. “Nice shooting! Alright men, we have more incoming. They know we’re here now. Let’s give ‘em a show!”

They had a perfect view of the elevator from their position and it quickly became a kill-zone as a result. From the moment the doors slid open, the batarians were met with a cascade of gunfire. The few who escaped and managed to take cover were quickly harassed by Grundan’s drones, leaving them vulnerable to the waiting snipers.  
  
“Whoooweee! You see that old man?” Ripper bellowed. “That’s how the big shots do eet!” 

“Got two under my belt you punk.”

“Aaaaand there’s five lard-ass.” Ripper retorted as the latest body fell.

“None of you would be hitting shit if my drone wasn’t flushing them out of cover.” Krul grumbled.

By his count, fourteen men were dead. But Garrus was certain more were on their way. Suddenly, the onslaught of soldiers ceased. “Alright men. Stay sharp.”

“Why? There’s none left.” Butler muttered.

“No. They’ve stopped mindlessly pouring out of the elevator. They’re using their brains now. Get ready.”

Sure enough, when the doors hissed open an entire squadron of batarians greeted them with broad shields, sheltering them from gunfire. “Sensat!” Immediately, the salarian lobbed a grenade toward the commandos. However, the tightly packed group simultaneously lunged forward, shields moving in one fluid motion. As a result, the blast didn’t cause more damage than a few charred feet which was rapidly being addressed. 

“Oh, crap.” Butler muttered

“Boss? Orders? Or, you know, ideas?” Ripper was attempting to mask his anxiety through snark.

“Rotate positions as much as you can, keep them confused. Butler stay in cover with your sniper rifle. Take opportune shots. Krul, bring in another drone. Leave the rest up to me.”

Garrus began leaping from cover to cover. Ducking from gunfire and dodging shells the batarians were using to drive him from any hard-won refuge, he slowly pressed forward. The plan was to trick the commandos into revealing their vulnerable backs to his team. If he could keep them focused on himself, and his squad continued switching up positions, they’d put them down eventually. 

“There are eight total.” Garrus growled. “Focus on breaking their line. Let’s try and split them up. Pair some tech attacks with another grenade.” As an explosion rocked the ship, it caught two of the commandos off guard. While they only dropped their shields for a moment, it was enough. Krul discharged a series of electrical jolts sending the batarians to their knees shrieking and writhing in agony as their flesh rapidly cooked inside their armor. Taking advantage of their comrades’ momentary distraction, Garrus lunged forward positioning himself behind their line. Three of the remaining commandos spun around to meet this advancing threat only to have his team fill their vulnerable backsides with enough lead to pop a tank. The three remaining were beginning to panic. From his position, Garrus could hear their frantic screeches into their coms “Who the fuck are these guys?!?”

“A bunch of dead assholes.” A batarian Garrus assumed was the captain came swooping down from some overhanging rebar, the action was reminiscent to his own tactics. _This guy was trouble._

The captain landed next to his commandos and brought up a protective, biotic field. “On me men!” For a moment, Garrus’s heart leaped to his throat. The batarian leader was barreling towards Butler’s position guns blazing, flanked by three battle-hardened soldiers. Frank’s distraught voice crackled over the com. “What do I do? What do I do?”

“Hold position. I’m coming, just hang on. Ripper whip out those blades. This is you and me.” Garrus took a running leap towards a stack of crates, sliding effortlessly across the tops. However, Butler was panicking, gunfire bounced off the commander’s biotics. “Focus on the lackeys, not the leader.” With their shields occupied by Frank’s frantic barrage, Garrus put two in the back of one’s skull while Ripper’s omni-blade sliced clean through the another’s neck. They simultaneously rolled in opposite directions taking cover on either side of the remaining two batarians. Crouching low, Garrus nodded to Ripper and he shot out, deeply cutting through the tender flesh behind of the last remaining commando’s knee. The batarian shrieked and dropped to the ground leaving the captain accessible. Despite knowing the biotic barrier would deflect his shot, Garrus took it. His intention was to pull the captain’s focus away from his vulnerable squadmate. 

The captain whipped around, unleashing a torrent of biotics at the turian’s last position. But Garrus was too fast. He leaped behind a small tower of crates as a cascade of blue came crashing down. “Show yourself asshole and I’ll grant you a quick death.”

Laughter rolled off his chest. “Are you joking? You realize you’ve lost right?”

“We’ll see about that.” Suddenly, the crates Garrus was sheltering behind went soaring in a haze of blue. 

The turian dove behind another set of freight unscathed. “You’re going to have to do better than that.” Garrus snatched a long forgotten wrench and tossed it behind a cluster of crates perpendicular to his own. It landed with a resounding clank, drawing the captain’s ire. The batarin’s biotics lashed out at this misguided target and Garrus closed in from behind.

“The fuck do you even want?!” The captain bellowed. 

Garrus grabbed him by the back of the neck and spun him around. “To make you pay for everything you’ve done, filthy slaver." When the life was choked out of him, Garrus turned to check on his team. “It’s alright. Come on out.”

Butler was gasping, his hand shook violently as he leaned over and vomited across the floor. “Shit. Thought I was done for.”

Ripper snorted. “You’s nearly was. When we’s gonna get this old timer back to base with his fuckin’ prune juice?” 

Garrus shot the young ex-merc a severe look. “That’s enough.” Turning to Butler, he placed a comforting hand on the man’s shoulder. “Frank you did me proud today.”

“You’re” Butler was panting between every word “jus….sayin’... that.”

“No. Those men were closing in on you and you stood your ground. You never stopped shooting and you never ran. That is true grit. And because of that, Ripper and I had managed to sneak around and take them by surprise.”

The little pep-talk seemed to strengthen Frank’s resolve. He gripped his rifle and nodded up at Garrus. 

Krul was turning the dead over onto their backs and rummaging through their pockets. Garrus had never seen someone so malicious towards their own kind before this guy. These were soldiers of The Hegemony, not a bunch of delinquent mercs. While he trusted Krul with his life, he expected at least some indignation from the man. And hadn’t he served in the military? Whatever. He could figure out the mystery that was Grundan Krul another time. There were more pressing issues at hand.

“Alright. Let’s start searching for the slaves. We have someone who’s going home today.” 

* * *

* * *

* * *

“Shouldn’t they be freaking out?” Frank muttered incredulously. “They’re so calm. Look at that one over there she’s sweeping for fuck’s sake.” 

They had arrived on deck three. The slaves were being kept in a small room without a single lock or safeguard. Most were standing idle, staring at the intruders, yet seeing nothing at all. Their eyes held only emptiness.

“Yeah they’ve been chipped awhile. Makes them docile.” Krul shrugged. “Never seen ‘em have more than a shred of self-awareness past two or three years.

Garrus shuddered. It almost reminded him of the indoctrinated salarians Shepard gunned down in that lab of horrors on Virmire. They were penned in, with no chance of escape. While Wrex vehemently agreed that Shepard was doing the right thing, Garrus couldn’t help but voice his concerns. At the time, they didn’t fully understand indoctrination. To just murder them in cold blood felt wrong. But Shepard turned to him and said “They’re not alive, not really. We’re doing them a favor. I’d rather die me than whatever the fuck this is.” Then he opened the pen and fired. Not one tried to resist or run. They didn’t even cry out. They just accepted their fate with the same uncaring, blank stares these slaves had. Now he found himself wondering what it would’ve done to The Commander if his sister had been in that cage. Maybe it was a blessing Shepard hadn’t found her like this. “Alright, let’s start gathering them up and treating any injuries. Start checking their slave numbers.”

As it turned out, the Ubralle was populated exclusively with female human slaves. However, there weren’t many. So far, they had located eight in total. Garrus watched idly as Krul guided the entire group into the cargo bay. With a mere gesture of his hand, they obeyed in unison. The image of it was slightly creepy, almost as if they were one consciousness.

While they diligently checked each slave’s tattoo, there was no 1182 among them. This was not happening again. Today, this nightmare for the Shepard family was over. Garrus began scanning with his visor. There must be an area of the ship they’d missed. “There! Right there! There’s a heat signature originating from the ventilation shaft.”

Sensat strode up to him with his omni-tool flickering over the area. “mm. Entrance should be on deck two.”

“Then that’s where we’re headed. The rest of you stay here and get these ladies ready for transport to the doc’s clinic.”

They traced the shaft’s entrance to a cramped chamber adjacent to the captain’s quarters.

“This is some sick fuck’s gallery. Look at this, the way the chains are arranged. Bet he came in here to admire his work. I should have killed that captain slower.” Garrus grumbled.

“Agreed.” Sensat acknowledged, preoccupied with the grisly, crimson mess scattered across the floor.

There were diffuse pools of fresh blood, deep red hand prints, and a trail leading to a maintenance ladder for ship’s ventilation system.

“Someone got one hell of a beating then escaped into the ducts. I’d go myself but...” Garrus waved his hand vertically, across his torso. “I’d never fit.”

“Not a problem!” The salarian winked, his jovial spirit never seemed to be bogged down by the most appalling sights, and lowered himself into dark, murky tube.

“More blood down here. And Yes! Yes! Female, human. Pursuing.” There was some clanging and the distinct sound of metal on metal.

“Ahhhh!”

“What is it Sensat? You good?”

“Yes. She nearly got me with knife.”

“You’re that close?”

“No. She threw it. Feisty one! But wounded.”

“Just dart her and be done with it. When she’s out, head back to the cargo bay. I have an idea.”

When Garrus returned to the debris-littered deck below, he filled Krul in on the human slave fighting back in the ducts. “Is this typical chipped behavior?”

“Sometimes, when injured, the primal part of the brain takes over. Don’t get your hopes up.”

Sensat’s com crackled to life. “Alright. She’s down. Now what?”

“Get yourself out of that duct and join us in the cargo bay.” Garrus grabbed a tarp stretched across a few crates. “I’m going to rip the duct open. I want you three to catch her with this.” Once his men were arranged below the heat signature, he magnetized his grappling hook and tossed it up towards the duct. “Alright men. Be ready. I’m going to pull that blasted pipe apart.”

A small body, a mere blur of red and milky-white, came tumbling out and landed softly in the outstretched tarp below. Garrus rushed over and knelt down. The back of her shirt had been shredded revealing deep, oozing gashes. 

Ripper let out a long, low whistle. “Shit. That girl’s what ninety pounds soakin’ wet? The fuck is the point of tunin’ her up like this?”

Garrus carefully wiped the blood from her arm, searching for a tattoo. This was the last slave aboard the Ubralle, if this wasn’t Jane…. But his thoughts were cut off once four small numbers came into view. 1182. Finally. At long last, she was found. He allowed the revelation to sink in for a few minutes before carefully turning her head to the side. A long, jagged scar extended from ear to ear just like all the others. _Damnit_.

  
She was chipped. 


	32. One More Light

**May 12th 2184 CE 13:44**

It was a solemn procession that made their way to the doc’s clinic. Sensat stayed behind to assure that the hostages woke without complications. Krul was clearly resisting the urge to tell them ‘I told you so,’ for which Garrus was grateful. Butler, to his left, was carrying Jane with the utmost care. 

When they arrived at the clinic, the usual squadron of mech greeted them. Although, the doc seemed to be beefing up security. Garrus counted an additional dozen, each equipped with a personal sidearm.

The assistant was giving their group grief however. Apparently, they didn’t accept chipped ex-slaves due to a chronic lack in staff. After a few minutes of arguing in circles with the young man, Garrus demanded to speak with the doctor who was apparently listening to the entire exchange through the intercom.

“Do not have facilities for long term care chipped slaves need. Also, un-nerve patients.” The salarian’s voice crackled over the cheap device. “Also, not happy with your behavior during last visit.”

“Look, you don’t have to keep them. I have ties in The Alliance. I’ll put in a call as soon as we’re back home. They’ll swing by and pick them up.” Garrus was losing his patience. It was barely past noon, yet it had been a long, grueling day. “And I’ll stay outside if it makes you happy.”

“Acceptable.”

The doctor, accompanied by a few new faces, emerged. Garrus waved them over to where Butler was standing idle, still cradling an unconscious Jane. “This one’s a family friend. I’d appreciate anything you can do for her.”

“MMM.” The salarian hummed to himself. “Chipped. Will most likely have poor outcome.”

“Yeah. I’m aware.”

“Will see. Will see.”

“Right. Well, since you seem to have welcomed yourself to my omni-number, give me an update later will you?”

“Hm? Yes. Yes.” The salarian, completely preoccupied with the back of Jane’s head, looked up and motioned for the group of medics to come forward. Frank gently laid Jane down on the gurney. Part of Garrus was grateful she wasn’t awake. For whatever reason, he’d saved that old picture of Jane and Shepard back when Tali found the man drunk in engineering. The siblings had seemed so unburdened, laughing at the camera, Jane on her brother’s back holding up bunny ears. It’d be easier this way. And now his friend could rest, his mission was complete. Hadn’t that been the entire purpose of this venture?

The slaves followed the doc into the clinic in unison, like a pack of aloof zombies. Garrus shuddered at the sight once more before turning and leading his men home.

* * *

* * *

* * *

  
He had to admit, ringing Anderson and telling the tale of Jane’s rescue provided far more levity than the actual experience; especially considering how it ended. Seeing humanity’s first councilor completely floored was a treat in and of itself. They arranged for a transport to pick up Jane and the other ex-slaves in the morning. Anderson planned to foot the bill for her admittance to a state-of-the-art psychiatric hospital. Maybe it wasn’t the best conclusion to the day’s events, but it was a far better situation than the one she faced on the Ubralle.

With the day winding down and the team off duty, Garrus found himself lulled into an afternoon nap.

The harsh buzzing of an incoming call stirred him from sleep. It was the doc, probably wondering when The Alliance was arriving. Crap. Had he forgotten to update him? “Hello?”

“Archangel? Have update!” 

“I have one for you too. It’s about The Alliance transport...”

“Yes! Yes! But this exciting!”

“Okay...”

“1182! Best outcome of group. Clever girl.” The salarian nodded vigorously while pulling up an enlarged image of the back of Jane’s head. “See? Hes-i-tation marks.” The doc enunciated slowly, as if whomever he was talking to was lacking in brain cells. “Control chip inserted at base of skull. First vertebrae. But deep enough in tissue to be undetected!”

“Wait, doc. What exactly are you telling me?”

“Faked it. Control chip not in brain. Merely flesh wound. Inserted herself. Very brave. Very clever. Am impressed. Chip would have registered on scans but yields no long term complications. Should be fine should be fine. When will Alliance arrive? Need to remove other chip. Biotic inhibitor. Longer procedure. Not yet stable enough. Will need second surgery. Currently writing follow-up notes for citadel doctor.”

“I… this… I have to tell the Alliance.”

“Yes yes of course. Now arrival time.”

“Uhhh around 08:00 tomorrow.” The revelation had left Garrus spinning. She faked a control chip? It was almost inconceivable. Then again, she was a Shepard wasn’t she? Her brother made a career out of achieving the impossible. 

“Good. Plenty of time. Preformed surgery to remove chip. Anesthesia needs to wear off. Want her comfortable. Hm Yes. Perhaps mild sedative. Will help with trip. Should leave with prescription for antiemetic traveling so soon after surgical procedure.”

“Sure doc. Look I gotta go...make… calls.”

Dumbfounded, Garrus began incessantly ringing Anderson. It took nearly twenty minutes for him to answer. “You’re never going to believe this.”

“It’s been a pretty unbelievable day, you may surprise me.”

“That kid, well, I guess she isn’t a kid anymore huh? She’s what 23? Jane she...”

“I’m a busy man, get to the point.” 

“Right sir. Sorry sir. She faked the whole thing. She isn’t chipped.”

“What, how?”

“Some salarian doctor caught it. Apparently, she put the chip in herself right beneath the skin or muscle or whatever you humans have at the base of the skull. But it’s just a flesh wound. She’s going to be fine.”

Anderson stared through the omni-screen silently for a few minutes. At first, Garrus wondered if his translator glitched. The man did not seem relieved, quite the opposite in fact. His eyes were darting back and forth while his fingers flew over a keyboard. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

“Sir?”

“Wait. No I can fix this. Where is she right now?”

“Uh, the doc’s clinic.”

“She’s not with you?”

“No. Sir, what’s going on?”

“She can’t come to The Citadel. It’s too dangerous.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Look, I’ve been pushing The Council and The Alliance hard about the reapers. Now I’ve been labeled a ‘conspiracy theorist.’” If this keeps up, well, it won’t be long before someone puts out a hit on me. Do you follow?”

“As ludicrous as that is, you can handle yourself. How does this affect Jane?”

Anderson rolled his eyes in a surprising lack of decorum. “The Miraculous Return of Shepard’s Long Lost Sister at a time when my political power is waning? The Man Behind Commander Shepard?” Anderson slammed his fist into the desk as he hollered at the top of his lungs. “The First Human Councilor? Look, best case scenario, she plays along and is the politicians’ puppet. The worst case involves assassins. If she were merely some mindless drone stuck in a psych ward, no one would take notice.”

“You’re messing with me. Tell me this is some sick joke. After everything Shepard did this is how they repay him?”

“She can’t come back here, even under a false identity. All it would take is one scan and she’d be identified. Hell, she won’t even make it past the docking bay. Security has been beefed up. C-Sec has a perimeter established for all new arrivals. And if that weren’t enough, I’m currently dealing with a data breach by some crazy terrorist group that has developed a sudden interest in Shepard. Is there any chance she can stay there for the time being?”

“I… yeah I suppose.”

“I’m forwarding you some money.”

“Huh?”

“Just take it. It’s for anything she might need. And anything you might need.”

“Sir?”

“I owe Shepard more than this Vakarian. The least I can do is throw some of my fancy paycheck your way. But you need to get her immediately. All it’ll take is one wrong scan. A drop of blood in the galaxy-wide database for missing and exploited children…. See where I’m going with this?”

“Crap.”

“Exactly.”

Garrus quickly ended the call and punched in the clinic’s code. “Hey doc, we have a change of plans.”

“Alliance arriving late? Should be fine. Can handle anything needed in meantime.” The salarian dismissively waved his hand while typing briskly on his keyboard.

“No. She can’t head back with The Alliance.” 

His slender fingers froze and the doctor abruptly snapped to attention. Hyper-alert eyes glared through the omni-screen. 

Garrus cleared his throat nervously. “The situation is… delicate.”

“Need more intel Archangel.” 

“Look, I can’t really give it. However, she needs to return with me.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“Vulnerable young woman. My patient. My responsibility. Don’t know you. Don’t know your squad.”

“Look, this really isn’t up for debate. I promise she’ll be safe here. No one will lay a hand on her.”

“No. She will be on Alliance transport. Have found ship scheduled for Omega. Don’t need you Archangel”

“What?!”

In an instant, the salarian closed his omni-tool and disappeared from view.

Garrus didn’t have time to sit and ponder the day’s ludicrous events. He assembled his men, apprised them of the situation, and proceeded to the clinic armed with explosives and guns. One way or another, he was bringing her home.


	33. Waiting Around to Die

**May 12th 2184 CE 05:29**  
**Jane Shepard**

It was a mistake leaving Kar’Shan, a fool’s errand. In a few hours, she would be sold to a factory on Uwan Oche – a grisly fate where the only chance of escape was death. Yet even now, as she stood idly mere feet from the airlock with such a dismal future closing in, she hesitated. Perishing in the vacuum of space was a brutal way to go. And after everything she had done to survive, to have it end like this felt so futile, so pointless. All it would take was one brazen race towards the airlock, one swipe of the hand, and she could bring the unsuspecting Captain Krapo Drarnastar with her. From the second she set foot on the accursed Ubralle, he had tormented her every moment. Being raped was one thing, but Krapo was a sadistic bastard who wanted nothing more than to inflict pain on every living soul he had a modicum of control over. So, why balk now? It was time. Time to show that son of a bitch she was not some mindless husk. She was alive. And she would be the one to provide him an end. She drew an uneasy breath, steadying her trembling hands. _One foot in front of the other Jane. You’ll see Ma and Pa soon. And Jimmy….. Jimmy I’m coming home._

She barreled towards the airlock, yet as her hand reached for the controls alarms sounded throughout the ship.

“The fuck is going on?” Krapo bellowed from his pilot’s chair no more than two feet from Jane’s position. “Oh for fuck’s sake what’s 1182 doing here? Stupid cunt was dumb enough to try the wrong door and nearly killed us all. Fuck I don’t have time for this. Datin!” 

“Yes sir?”

“Teach her what happens to slaves who leave their post. Forty lashes with the qilinbian. If she survives all that, rub some salt in for good measure. That dumb bitch nearly killed us with her stupidity.”

“Yes sir.”

“Wait. Private remember not to fuck up her pretty face.”

“Right sir.”

“Brato! The fuck is going on with our sensors?”

“Not sure sir! I’m trying to...”

“Can we land on Uwan Oche?”

“Yes sir but I’m not as confident about leaving.”

The captain groaned. “Fuck it. Let’s just call it a day and head to Omega. This heap of junk will probably explode in atmo with our shit luck.”

* * *

* * *

* * *

  
An explosion rocked the ship, knocking Jane from unconsciousness, back to her harsh, cruel reality. Coagulated blood pooled around her. When she attempted to lift herself from the floor, her hands slipped in the slick mess. She landed with a thud as the sound of gunfire erupted from every which way.

A raid? Where were they now? They couldn’t be planet-side, Uwan Oche was dominated by batarians. And from what she’d gathered, Krapo was a force to be reckoned with. His reputation alone kept rivals at bay. No. This was a foreign party, probably pirates. And she’d be damned if they caught her. With any luck, they’d kill the captain along with the rest of the crew. If she moved quickly, maybe just maybe she could hide long enough for them to disembark somewhere allowing her to escape. 

After three attempts she finally managed to pull herself up. What was left of the skin on her back tore and protested harshly. She nearly buckled under the pain as she lurched forward, hands griping the weapons table with a mind of their own. Bone-white knuckles clashed against droplets of blood. Drawing several ragged breaths, she steadied herself. A small switchblade forgotten by one of her captors laid on the counter. She snatched it and scrambled towards the air duct. As she lowered herself down, another blast rocked the ship causing her hands to slip. She crashed to the bottom of the ducts with a sickening snap, knocking her breathless. 

She wasn’t sure how long she laid there unable or unwilling to move. Her leg felt broken as did her ribs. If she survived the raid, who knew how long it’d be before she succumbed to her injuries. Yet from her position, she could see the entire cargo bay. Below her was a captivating sight. 

Several crew members laid completely still, between their listless eyes were perfectly round gunshots. Pools of red united in a picturesque fashion. Good, she thought to herself. They deserved nothing less. 

But there was a terrifying and fascinating creature dodging, jumping and leaping from behind stacked crates as Krapo unloaded his rifle at what seemed like nothing more than a shadow. Right when she thought she was staring at its position, she’d catch a glimpse of silver and blue out of the corner of her eye. Whatever it was moved like a ghost and she knew in her bones that Krapo had finally met his match. Her soon-to-be-dead master bellowed at it to show himself. He was met with only laughter. The language was strange, alien in more ways than one, but it was beautiful music to her ears. 

She watched with fascination as Krapo made his fatal error and the alien finally emerged from the shadows. He was made of harsh, spiked angles and glittered like steel. She watched as he effortlessly raised Krapo by the throat and slowly squeezed. The batarian struggled and gurgled under his executioner’s iron grip. And as his gaze drifted skyward, for just a moment, all four of her tormentors’ eyes met her own. There was a hint of recognition, a snarl, and she smiled into them as the light left and he was nothing more than dead meat hanging from the grasp of the perfect predator. 

This large, spiked alien may be her doom coming to call but at least she was witness to Krapo’s demise. It filled her with a satisfaction she never knew possible. Still this man-creature was dangerous and if she wanted to survive, she had to act like roth-dashi in the bushes. Silent. Still. She breathed in tiny, soundless gasps as she hid like prey from something that she was certain could snap her in two with as little effort as breathing.

An hour passed, maybe more. There were several other men with the spiked creature. One was a salarian, she was almost certain. She had only encountered one before and he was hastily dealt with after cleverly hacking through the ship’s encryption for their long-distance communicator. They were nearly attacked by something called ‘The STG’ as a result. Yet, Krapo discovered the poor wretch before his signal went live. He drove a meat-hook through The Salarian’s soft underbelly and hung him in the CIC as both an example and entertainment for his men. It took over a week for the poor thing to die. And the crew made a game of torturing him further. They set fire to his feet, fed him vinegar and dung, and when he begged for death they’d slather on the medi-gel and renew the process. After that brush with danger from the STG ship-eating-beast, Krapo adopted a ‘kill all salarian’s on sight’ policy.

Two others were somewhat familiar sights. They were human like her, only male. She hadn’t seen a male human since Kar’Shan and had never laid eyes on such a robust one. Initially, she mistook him for a rich-as-fuck batarian with his gut the shape of a keg, and round, ridiculous-looking legs. And she idly wondered why such a graceful killing machine kept him around. What help could he possibly offer? His usefulness eluded her but the spiked-alien was clasping him on the shoulder, and if she didn’t know better, murmuring some sort of comfort. He was valuable in some way.

The other human was tall, proud. His dark, curly hair bounced as he circled the group of slaves aboard the Ubralle. Had she ever seen long, human hair outside of the picture vids? Potok had shown her movies from ancient times cast in a place called Hollywood. She had watched, fascinated at the people who looked so similar to herself yet so free. Free like the breeze that whispered to her on those sweltering hot Kar’Shani nights. She felt like she could see Mindoir or even Earth in his every step. 

Mindoir was merely a dream now, the faces of her family faded long ago. She could no longer recall the sound of their voices or the color of her mother’s hair. Jane hadn’t seen a truly free human since she was a little girl. She thought she had, after Potok understood. But she and her sister-wives never walked like this. Confident. Certain. Proud. **Angry**. But with purpose. It took her breath away.

It was the same way the steel-predator walked, like the world was his for the taking. And Okonna help anyone who got in the way.

They had rounded the other slaves up. Every. Last. One. Aside from her. That wasn’t a good sign. Either their intent was to slaughter them all or sell them at auction. When the curly-haired human began scanning and administering what she guessed to be medi-gel, she knew it was the latter. That meant they were fellow slavers. And she’d just wind up on another hell-hole ship like this one. And maybe it was weak. And maybe it was pathetic. But she’d rather die fighting than be someone’s play-thing ever again. 

By Ighothan’s light, may she strike with all her might should she be discovered. She knew these men were different. It was in the way they walked, the way they spoke – even if she couldn’t understand a single word. She knew they’d kill her before turning her into some sick toy. But she’d have to earn it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally meet one of if not the main character of this story. She has a long way to go and a lot of healing ahead of her but we'll be hearing from this one again.
> 
> Also, I'm considering publishing a redacted version of my codex (to avoid spoilers.) I've been developing one to refer to when I'm writing. Eventually, it'll have names of characters, physiological and cultural highlights of various species, religions, foods, etc. etc. 
> 
> It's nowhere near finished and stuff will be added as the story progresses.


	34. Search Party

**May 12 th 2184 CE 18:03**

It took nearly two hours to reach the Gozu District. The Vorcha, in their cycle of eternal stupidity, were attempting to push into Blue Suns Territory. While their rebellious encroachment resulted in a swift and brutal response from The Suns, the ensuing chaos forced Garrus and his squad to take alternate and significantly slower routes. The frustration was weighing on him along with the situation’s urgency. 

When they finally arrived at the clinic, Garrus did not like what laid before them. If he could hazard a guess, the doc was expecting them. A small army of mechs was patrolling outside. He quickly pulled his sniper rifle up and peered through the scope. The doc himself was outside rambling, at what one could only assume was a hundred miles an hour, into his omni-tool. Even with his superior turian hearing, he couldn’t make out a single word from this distance. 

“Alright. I’m going to try and have a talk with him.”

“The doc’s not too happy with you boss.” Ripper cautioned.

“True. But I really don’t want to fight this guy. For one, he’s too smart for his own good. The spirits only know what he has waiting for us. And, well, he may be a pain in my ass but he’s doing valuable work.” Garrus paused. “That said, I want you prepared. Slowly inch forward, keeping out of sight. Remember this is the guy that leaves rotting heads on pikes as a warning to the local gangs. He’s no ordinary doctor. Do not underestimate him.”

Garrus ducked and crept onward. Once he was a mere twenty feet from the doc, an icy voice rang out. 

“Know you’re here Archangel.”

 _Crap_.

“Give back patient or be blown to smithereens!”

“Wait, what?!”

“Patience not a strong-suit Archangel. Return her at once!”

“You lost her.” It was more a statement than an accusation. He could scarcely believe this was happening after everything….

“You took her!” The salarian spun sharply, and glared directly at his position with a blazing omni-tool ready to unleash a pyro-tech attack. “Patient has broken leg. Could not have left on own accord.”

Garrus raised his rifle in response. “That’s the most disturbing thing you’ve told me yet. Stand down doc. If you won’t listen to reason, I’ll make you.” The mechs were circling his position, attempting to flank him. 

As he reached for a grenade, a human woman came scrambling out of the clinic as if her ass was on fire. She wildly waved her arms above her head in a clear attempt to grab their attention. However, with his gazed fixed on the salarian’s pistol, it wasn’t until she was closing in that Garrus realized it was none other than Nalah.

“Woah woah woah boys, everybody just calm down. What’s going on?” She skidded to a halt beside them, violently panting. 

“Know this cloaca?” The doc kept his pistol trained on him, but Garrus spotted the relaxation of muscles as some of the tension left his shoulders.

“Yes. Mordin, he’s a good man. My husband and I….”

She was abruptly cut off as Butler came stampeding out of cover, frantic. “Woman! Get your ass over here and get down. Can’t you see this here is a standoff?”

“Of for fuck’s sake Fra--”

“Are you outta your god damned mind!? Get outta there.”

“Are you serious? Do you listen to nothing I say?!”

“I heard and I-”

“Oh shut it. I’ve been working at this clinic every Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday for nearly a year. And yes I told you. But you were just pretending to listen.” She huffed and turned to the doc while Butler stood idle looking as if he’d swallowed a frog. “I vouch for him. Whatever he’s here for...”

“The missing patient. 1182.” 

Nalah glanced up at Garrus, confused, as both men relaxed and holstered their weapons. “Sorry. We had an early morning brief when we discovered which ship she was on. There wasn’t time to catch you up.”

“This is who you were searching for?”

“Yeah. Look, we have to find her. Councilor Anderson gave me some ominous news. She’s in a lot of danger, even if she wasn’t a lone, injured woman on Omega. And for her own safety, doc, that’s all you’re getting out of me. How the hell did you lose her?”

“Yes. Yes. If Archangel not involved must have snuck out. Impressive given broken leg. Need to find her. Suggest we split up.” Mordin hesitated for a fraction of a second. The subtle movement would’ve eluded most species’ perception, but very little escaped the needle-sharp eyes of a turian. “Suggest some of your squad accompany me. Can move faster without mechs. Have more men than necessary for search party.”

“Krul, Ripper, head out with the doc. If Nalah vouches for him....”

“I do.” Nalah interjected.

“Then that’s good enough for me. Doc, tune into frequency 179.6 The password’s 335ripitsheartout all lower case.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm nearing the end of what was supposed to chapter 34. However, I feel like it's far too long so it'll be split up. 
> 
> Anyhow, I just wanted to thank everyone for leaving comments/kudos/bookmarks. It really encourages me. Thanks to the fire and a lack of privacy, everyone knows what my new hobby is and thinks it's ridiculous. So that's great. Personally, I don't see how practicing my extremely rusty writing skills is a waste of time. Plus, it makes me happy. And it's been ten years since I wrote anything. I'm simply trying to find my feet again. Either way, this story has been running around my head since the trilogy's release. So maybe that's worth something in and of itself.


	35. Be Not So Fearful

**May 12th 2184 CE 18:23**

Garrus quickly put his detective skills to work. This girl was clever, that much was certain. She wouldn’t just pick a random location and flee. And if her leg was a bad as the doc implied, she’d probably look for a place to lay low. After thirty minutes of searching, a stack of crates leading up to some long forgotten construction on the catwalks caught his eye. He ordered the rest of his team to continue search efforts on the ground before scaling the freight.

It wasn’t long before he came across a small figure huddled in the corner. His scanner identified her almost instantly. ‘MATCH. Close Relative of Commander Shepard’ blinked across the HUD. 

He radioed the rest of the team to call off the hunt. “Found her. Gozu District West Side by the burned down pizzeria on the catwalks. Everyone stay back for now. I don’t want to spook her.” 

“Doesn’t have translator Archangel.” Mordin’s voice crackled over the com.

“Crap. Do we even know what she speaks?”

“Should be able to understand her. Have sub-dermal implant yes? But she will not comprehend you.”

“See, now, this is why you creep everyone out doc. How do you even know...”

Yet, before Garrus could finish, Jane was on her feet, pointing a sub-machine gun directly at him. She was dressed in a matching pair of navy-blue sweats. From beneath the hood, two large almond-shaped eyes with a familiar hint of green glared at him. Her breathing was even, controlled, despite the presence of a perceived threat.

“Gonna have to go guys.” He chuckled. “Looks like she stole one of your mech’s guns doc.”

Carefully, he drew his hands up, and cleared his throat in an effort to muster as gentle a voice as such a long, chaotic day would allow. “Hey there, I uhh… I’m here to help you.” Hopefully the message of ‘I come in peace translated.’

However, she simply continued scowling at him, her fragile, thin arm trembled in an effort to hold up the gun. What did Shepard do when Talitha was threatening to start a shootout? _Cautiously approached while talking in a calming matter_. Would that even work if she didn’t understand a word he was saying? 

He slowly put one foot in front of the other exaggerating the movement as much as possible. “Right. So, I’m hoping you’ll come with me.” However, the motion didn’t earn him any points. She raised the pistol to his head and narrowed her eyes. He quickly backed off and she relaxed the weapon. 

Ending this standoff could be simple. Leaping forward and snatching a gun from untrained hands would be child’s play. However, it’d also terrify her. And the sight of the small human desperately struggling to maintain balance softened him. She had her left arm looped around the scaffolding, using it to steady herself as the right hand kept him at gun point. Those angry, green eyes never drifting from his position. 

“Nalah, could you come up here? I have an idea. Krul, you’re a part of this too.”

“How so? Doubt she wants to see another batarian right now. And we may not speak the same dialect. There are three major languages spoken on Kar’Shan. No idea which region she’s from.”

“You’ll be staying down there, out of sight. I’m going to keep my com open however. If we can get her to talk, could you identify the language? Assuming it’s batarian?”

“I see where this is going. You want me to send a dialect-specific translator program to your omni-tools. Alright. Switching off my translator.”

As Garrus suspected, the moment Nalah arrived, Jane’s eyes went wide with curiosity. Here, standing beside him, was a well-kept, free human woman. He could only imagine how long it’d been since she’d seen something like that. Her eyes flicked over Nalah’s gray, flowing hair as she stared open-mouthed at the woman’s neatly pressed nurses’ uniform. Garrus silently thanked the spirits, he didn’t even believe in, that at least one of them didn’t look like they had just stepped out of a meat grinder. He nudged Nalah in encouragement and she immediately took the cue. 

Placing both hands in front of her, Nalah stepped forward. “Hi there.” Jane kept the pistol aimed at him. “We’re here to help. Maybe you want to put that down.” Seeing the lack of understanding in Jane’s eyes, she exchanged a worried look with Garrus. “I don’t think we’re making any progress.”

“Try dropping her name. We just need a few words, a sentence, and Krul can send us that program.”

Nalah obliged, taking another modest step forward. “Jane.” 

Now that grabbed her attention. Jane’s arm shook so violently, the gun nearly clattered to the ground. And Garrus was able to spot, much to his relief, that the safety was still on. She must not have much experience with firearms, which was surprising. The girl certainly knew how to take aim. “How… how do you know that name?” Her voice was so soft, so different from her brother’s. 

“Sweetie, we’re just trying….”

“Don’t understand you.” Jane was gripping the gun with renewed purpose, glaring directly at Garrus. It was enough to make him wonder just how much of the fight she had witnessed back on the Ubralle.

Krul’s voice jolted him from his thoughts. “Interesting. She’s speaking Rishini. It’s an old dialect. Must be from the Totin region. Sending it to your omni-tools now. And Castor?”

“Received and installing. What’s up?”

“Do you still need me? I’m wiped.”

“You’re all off duty. Nalah and I can take it from here.”

He excitedly lifted the omni-tool in front of him. Finally, they were about to make some progress. “Hey there. Can you understand me?” By the way Jane stiffened, he guessed the answer was yes. “We’re just trying to help you. That attack on your ship wasn’t an attack, it was a rescue.”

Jane snorted derisively, the former softness in her tone had fled. “Liar.” Well, that wasn’t a great sign. “Explain how you know that name.”

“Sweetie, there will be time enough for all that.” Nalah interjected. “Look, I’m a nurse and that leg of yours is pretty busted up. The longer you wait to splint it, the worse it’s going to be. Why don’t you let us help?” 

Keeping the pistol trained on Garrus, Jane nodded towards him “Says the group who drugged me. Like hell I’m going to auction. Why don’t you just leave me the fuck alone? You have the others. Ain’t that enough creds for you greedy bastards?”

_Crap._

“Sorry about that. We uhh… we were just trying to get you out of the duct.” Garrus quickly apologized.

“Not buying it. Seriously, GO.”

“Sweetheart, do we look like slavers to you? I’m human, same as you. Do you really think I’ll drag you to the slave pens?” Nalah piped in.

“Knew an asari bitch that tagged and collared her own. I don’t give a flying fuck that you’re human.”

_Double crap._

Not knowing what else to do, Garrus hastily spoke up. “I served with your brother.” He didn’t want to tell her about Shepard like this, but if there was an alternate way to convince her to stand down, he couldn’t see it.

“Only brother I ever had is dead. Has been for a long time.” 

“No. He made it off of Mindoir.” 

Upon hearing the colony’s name, her eyes snapped up and met his gaze for the first time. “No way. I saw him die. Those batarians beat him to death. He.. he wasn’t moving...”

Garrus took a step forward with every carefully crafted sentence. “He survived. And he never stopped looking for you.” She was breathing faster now, absorbing his words. “He told me about you. Said you loved animals. How you always wanted a dog but your mom wouldn’t let you have one. That was until you found a mutt in an irrigation ditch and nursed it back to health. Spirits even after all those years, he was still puzzled how such a small girl hid an enormous dog under her bed.” 

“Wilkie.” She whispered, lost in another world. “The same way I harvested carrots… carried him home with the blue the… my…. biotics.”

“Yeah big black, mangy thing by his description. I don’t know what ‘mangy’ means but it seemed to leave a distaste in his mouth.” He was mere inches from her now. 

Trembling from head to toe, Jane slid to the floor, the gun forgotten by her side. “Jimmy’s... Jimmy’s alive?” She looked up at him, eyes wide, bright, and full of hope. 

Garrus knelt down so they were eye-level, knowing he was about to crush that unbridled optimism as quickly as it had blossomed. “I’m sorry Jane. He passed a few months ago. Finding you, well, it’s been a personal mission of mine. He was a good friend and I want to see his sister safe.”

The girl made a broken sound and clenched her fists, staring bleakly at the floor. “But it’s over? It’s… it’s really over?”

“It’s over. You’re free. I promise.”

She sobbed into her hands, whether from relief or grief Garrus hadn’t the faintest clue. Nalah scurried to her side and gingerly enveloped the small figure in a blanket, whispering into her ear. Jane had completely let her guard down, allowing the older woman to embrace her. For awhile, the two sat in silence with Nalah holding onto the young ex-slave, gently rocking them from side to side.

After confiscating the gun, Garrus withdrew. He busied himself arranging his climbing gear to accommodate a small human with a broken leg. While they could follow the crates down, something told him it’d be a painful journey for the girl. Plus, Jane seemed nervous around him. And Nalah instinctually knew how to handle the situation, _she was a mother afterall_. He quickly shook the thought from his mind. At the very least, this would give them a bit of time without a giant turian towering overhead.

He steadied the rope, and called back to them. “Whenever you ladies are ready, I can lower you from here. It should be easier for her leg this way.” 

Nalah descended first. But not before assuring Jane she’d be waiting for her right beneath her feet. As Garrus gradually lowered Nalah, he could feel Jane struggling to remain upright beside him. “You can grab onto my arm for support.” He felt her hesitate for a moment, then the gentle pressure of two small hands against his armor. 

Her voice, barely a whisper beside him. “Thanks.”

“Your brother always had my back Jane. I’ll do the same for you. You can count on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was rummaging around my collection of documents and stumbled on this fic’s original title. I scrapped it when I remembered that Javick’s DLC is named From Ashes. Now, however, I simply don’t care. It fits better than the other titles.


	36. Path to Freedom

**May 12th 2184 CE 20:49**

Her mind swirled fiercely. Thoughts, like waves, crashed against the confines of her skull. Only a few short months ago, Jimmy had been alive. All this time she thought he died in a futile attempt to save her. It had been a difficult burden to bear. Then, in a fraction of a second, he was stolen. She needed to drink up every detail. What killed him? How did he die? And what was so daunting, so powerful, that it overwhelmed the sole person who survived Mindoir a free man? 

As shocking as the revelation had been, what completely floored her was the steel-predator. In sharp contrast to the lethal killing machine she’d witnessed on The Ubralle, he seemed to care a great deal about her brother, about her. And he wasn’t above shedding blood, that much was for certain. With luck, he’d tell her who murdered Jimmy. And heavens help those who took his life. She would come for every last one. A dark, creeping part of her almost laughed at the absurdity of that thought. Even if she became proficient at fighting, it’d be a long time before she could pursue a quest of vengeance. 

The kind woman with silver hair had helped her shower. Being clean was a luxury she hadn’t experienced in ages. Yet, as the water clashed against her back, she cried out despite her best efforts to suppress such weakness. Medi-gel could only do so much. Somethings only time could heal. 

Presently, she was sitting in a med-lab while a brown and white salarian raced from moment to moment. White plaster accompanied by metal braces sat atop his workstation. Curiosity overcame her and she found herself stealing glances at the contraption. 

“Want to see yes? Translator should be working now.”

She nodded. 

“Name is Mordin. Here.” As he held up the object, bits of a powdery white substance dribbled down his lengthy fingers. “Cast and brace for leg. Apologies. Don’t have better equipment. Could have leg healed faster with nanites or blorix. Have neither. Do what I can.”

She watched as he raced from task to task, humming to himself as he readied the equipment. Eventually, he addressed her again. 

“Trust Archangel?”

“Who?”

“Man who brought you here with Nalah, my nurse. Grey haired woman. Helped you clean up.”

“My brother did.”

“Mmmm.”

As he lifted her leg, she winced. “Yes. Not surprised. Bad break. Must be painful. Have analgesics. First need to talk though.”

“Okay.”

“Have omni-tool for you. Here.” He slid the orange gizmo onto her arm. With two nearly imperceptible flicks of the finger the object sprung to life. “This my number. Have problems, call me. Have questions, call me. Will see you again. One week. Also, need surgery to remove biotic inhibitor.” Seeing her excited look, Mordin quickly pressed on. “Need to rest for now. Not yet. Not yet. Patience. Will have biotics again soon. Know how to use?”

“Been awhile but yes.”

“Formal training?”

She hesitated.

“Need to know. Biotics dangerous for user if not properly educated.”

“Sort of. But not by humans. It was some sort of batarian experiment.”

“Mm. Concerning. Still, can’t leave in. Will cause neural degeneration.”

“I’ll be fine. I just want it out so no one can mess with me.”

“Understandable. Still, advise caution. Now. Need to set leg. Very bad break.” Using his omni-tool, he brought an x-ray up to her eye level. “Broke here and here. Need to set. Will not be pleasant. Need analgesic. Ready?”

“Do your worst.”

“Will do best.”

As the painkillers flooded her veins, her senses became sluggish, dull. Her mind floated towards the ceiling, watching the doctor as he straightened then secured her leg. She clutched at the table. Razor sharp pain shot up through the appendage, radiating throughout out her body. Then it left as quickly as it came. And she embraced the darkness.

* * *

When the world finally came back into view, soft light danced behind baby blue curtains. She was in a large, smooth bed clearly not made for batarians; or humans for that matter. A considerable, circular pit was dead center in the mattress. She had sunk into the oddly shaped chasm, curling around the strange form with her bad leg propped up against several pillows.

The previous day’s events flooded back into memory. She was alive. She was free. And some long lost friend of her big brother had come for her. It was a lot to wrap one’s mind around. But for now, there was an undeniably delectable smell emanating from the next room. Grasping the crutches that were resting against the bed, she slowly made her way to the door. It was the dawn of a new day, a new life, and she wasn’t about to miss a second. More importantly, her stomach seemed to remember it was still alive. And she was famished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chimney sweep came today and my house is no longer 48F. THANK FREAKING GOD. Now I can actually type lol. My fingers were not too happy about the temperature before. I love winter in the mountains. Curling up in front of the woodstove with a good book is one of my favorite past-times.


	37. Live to See Tomorrow

**May 13th 2184 CE 07:22**

Jane was trembling like a leaf. She was sitting upright at the kitchen table, dressed in the fleece pajamas Nalah had provided. The woman took to her like a mother to a broken baby bird. She helped her shower before the leg cast, changed bandages, and even fixed her some steaming goop called ‘oatmeal.’ 

When the bowl was placed in front of her, Jane grabbed the spoon in a manner reminiscent to a rabid varren before roughly driving it into the dish. The silverware made a cacophonous sound as steel clashed with ceramic. She repeated the gesture several times before successfully dropping a spoonful into her mouth, which clattered against her dull, human teeth. The motion seemed to cause her pain however and she winced before gulping down her prize.

Garrus turned to his men, suddenly aware that all four of them had gathered behind him gawking at their base’s newest resident. He growled as low as possible, hoping she couldn’t overhear. “Don’t the four of you have better things to do? Since you seem to have an abundance of time on your hands, check over the weapons roster and clean our guns.” He waited until his men were out of view before turning back to Jane. If she had overheard, she gave no indication. 

“Sweetheart.” Nalah tried to catch Jane’s attention. “Honey, I think you should slow down. It says here to ‘start feeding slowly.’ This is the printout the doctor sent with you.” But if Jane had heard a single word of it, no one was the wiser. Garrus and Nalah exchanged a look he was pretty certain meant _Ooookay? Now what do we do?_ despite the species-barrier. 

Garrus subtly gestured towards the living area with his head. And Nalah quickly followed him out of Jane’s earshot. 

“So, uh… Do we make her listen to the doctor’s orders?” He lowered his voice to a mere rumble.

“That girl is terrified of her own shadow. I don’t think we should make her do anything.”

“Yeah but she’s going to make herself sick.”

Nalah sighed. “You’re certain that translator’s working?”

“Yes. I mean, it was in the salarian’s doctor’s office. She was rambling away before the painkillers wore off. You heard her.”

“Then we let her make herself sick. I can take care of any cleanup or getting her to the toilet bowl. Goodness knows I’ve mopped up more vomit in my lifetime than I care to recall.”

“Considering the amount of blood and guts I’ve dealt with, it will take a lot more than that to make me squeamish. But she’d probably be more comfortable with you helping her.”

On the other hand, Krul had a significantly different approach to the situation. He reemerged to observe from the balcony. When it became clear they weren’t making any progress, he bellowed across the entire base. “Hey 1182, drop it before you hurl all over the floor.”

The spoon, immediately abandoned, violently clacked against the bowl. 

“Thank you for the input Krul.” Garrus admonished. “Now kindly get your ass over to the armory.”

“Uh huh. It worked didn’t it?”

“Armory. Now.”

Nalah, the ever vigilant mother figure, wasted no time returning to the kitchen table. “You can eat your fill hon. But things will be easier if you take your time.”

“Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. I imagine it’s been awhile since you had a hot meal.”

Jane nodded. “A few years.”

Garrus made himself scarce by returning to his room. There were a few belongings he needed to gather. After carrying Jane back to the base the previous night, he realized they didn’t have anywhere to put her. For the time being, she was staying in his room while he bunked with his men. Butler assured him that he could re-purpose the dining area into a bedroom. But they didn’t have the materials on hand. Regardless, they never touched the dining room as everyone either ate at the kitchen table or elected to recline on the sofa during mealtime. Its sole function was gathering dust.

Taking advantage of his room’s privacy he pulled up Anderson’s contact info. The retired soldier answered on the second ring. 

“Vakarian. Tell me you have good news.”

“Yes sir. She’s safe.”

“Music to my ears. How’s she doing?”

“Remarkably well all things considered. The wife of one of my squad-mates is helping her. She broke her leg pretty badly but we know a salarian doctor. He’s taking care of it.”

“My god. I wish I could meet her. This here is what we humans call a shot in the arm.”

“Sir?”

“It’s an old human idiom. It generally refers to something that encourages or grants hope. I can’t tell you how disheartening it is trying to convince these politicians to prepare their species for war. My warnings fall on deaf ears. They couldn’t care less. Honestly, I’m not even sure why they gave humanity the councilor seat. Shepard was right. They were just throwing humanity a bone.”

“Sir, if I may....”

“Speak freely Vakarian.”

“Are there any preparations for the reapers underway? Is anyone doing anything?”  
  
Anderson let out a long, defeated sigh. “Not nearly enough. But I have a few connections in The Alliance I’m taking full advantage of. I wish I could tell you more but the rest is classified.”

“I understand.”

“I doubt my efforts will be enough. But it’s better than nothing.”

“We’ll give them hell sir.”

“I hope so Vakarian. Well, I better get back to work. I have a full schedule today. Keep that girl safe. Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.”

“Will do sir. Good luck.”

When they hung up, Garrus gathered a few stray shirts and his calibrations notebook. It was past time he put in some solid research hours. Thralog Mirki’it was still alive. And he had a promise to keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Several chapters are named after the music that inspired them. I recently discovered a composer, David Chappell, who has been fueling my most recent writing. I'd definitely recommend checking him out. It's crazy how underrated he is.


	38. You've Got Mail Part 2

**The Over-encumbered Inbox of Garrus Vakarian during the second week of May**

From: Talizorah_Vas_Neema@migrantfleet.org  
To: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
5-12-84 11:01

Garrus! 

Sorry it took me so so long to reply! I was on a super secret mission in geth space with my father. Well, guess it’s not that secret if I’m telling you. But you won’t blabber right? We’ll be near a com-bouy for another day or so before heading out again.

Oh, I’m in the process of closing my other email account. So, start sending messages here.

Yes, I heard about the council. Those bosh’tets. My people believed me about the reapers but they don’t really care. It scares me that no one is doing anything. Have you heard from the humans? Is The Alliance preparing at least? I’ll be on messenger for the rest of the evening. Then I need to leave on yet another mission. At least we’re working on obliterating the geth. Though I doubt that’ll be enough.

Hope to hear from you,

Tali

* * *

  
From: Talizorah_Vas_Neema@migrantfleet.org  
To: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
5-12-84 20:22

So, I found this great game on shore-leave. My friends and I are blowing up something called zombies in Galaxy of Fantasy! You’ve got to try it! The humans came up with these weird fantasy creatures that are like husks except they eat brains. It’s totally wicked.

* * *

From: Talizorah_Vas_Neema@migrantfleet.org  
To: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
5-13-84 23:51

Damn Garrus, you better not have gotten your head blown off. When I’m near a com-buoy again, there better be at least one email from you waiting in my inbox! We’re leaving in an hour so I better get preparations underway.

* * *

From: Kalenko@AllianceMailNetwork.org  
To: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
5-13-84 09:31

Hi Garrus,

I haven’t been up to much. Got a promotion. Although it all rings a bit hollow, knowing what’s on the horizon. Say, have you heard from Liara? She dropped off the map after leaving the citadel.

* * *

From: YourBigDaddi24@citadelmail.com  
To: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
5-14-84 01:42

Wasssup Garrus? Hilary broke my dam flight sim. Lit tle brat. Remmber when Sheppard lost tthat bet and rank some of Wrex’s ryncol? Weak sauce passed out in minutes. I GOT him bbbeat. STILL ALIVE.

* * *

  
From: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
To: Talizorah_Vas_Neema@migrantfleet.org  
5-14-84 05:04

It figures that the one day you’re free, I’m busting my ass. That said, Tali, you’ll never believe what I pulled off. Damn do I wish I could tell you. Say, you’re not heading to the Terminus Systems anytime soon are you? If so, we should meet up. I’m on Omega. I promise. You won’t regret it. Besides, I know a woman who makes authentic qualisi. Let me introduce you to the foods of my people!

What do you mean the quarians don’t care about the reapers? That has to be the most confusing thing you’ve ever said to me. I spoke with Anderson recently. He eluded to some preparations for the reapers but not much. We’ll figure it out one way or another.

* * *

  
From: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
To: Kalenko@AllianceMailNetwork.org  
5-14-84 05:10

Kaiden!

Don’t let the reapers get you down. Just remember we have to live our best lives until that day. And when they come, we’ll give them one hell of a show. Of course, the galaxy will probably be a smoking crater by then, but we’ll make them pay for it.

Sorry. I haven’t heard from Liara. Actually, now that you mention it, she’s the only one from the team I haven’t gotten a reply from. I’m sure she’s fine though. You taught her well. Her biotics were incredible by the time we took down Saren.

* * *

From: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
To: YourBigDaddi24@citadelmail.com  
5-14-84 05:17

I’m just putting this out there Joker. But if Wrex suggested it for the losing side of a bet, maybe it’s not the best idea?

* * *

From: Kalenko@AllianceMailNetwork.org  
To: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
5-16-84 00:03

Would you mind sending her another message? Maybe if enough of us bug her she’ll come out from hiding.

* * *

  
From: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
To: Kalenko@AllianceMailNetwork.org  
5-17-84 05:51

I guess. But if she doesn’t want to talk to us there isn’t much we can do. I take it that means you’re not down for grabbing a beer?

* * *

From: Kalenko@AllianceMailNetwork.org  
To: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
5-17-84 13:51

Sorry Garrus. I’ve got a lot on my plate right now. Rain check?

* * *

From: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
To: Kalenko@AllianceMailNetwork.org  
5-17-84 17:30

I’ll hold you to that Alenko.

* * *

From: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
To: LiaraT2145@SerriceUniversity.edu  
5-17-84 17:37

Liara!

I am officially a bad ass. Oh, and The Alliance owes me a vacation on a tropical island. Maybe I’ll ask for my own brand of turian whiskey too. If you drop by Omega, I’ll regale you with the whole tale.

Could you tell Kaiden you’re alive? Otherwise, he’ll keep bothering me about it.

* * *

From: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
To: AndersonD2152@citadelmail.com  
5-20-84 15:39

Councilor Anderson,

I’m forwarding you the patient file on our mutual friend. She’s pretty quiet so I wasn’t aware of these complications. I know a nurse who works in the clinic and she snagged this for me. Is there anything you can do? The black market doesn’t have these meds.

_Patient: Jane Doe_  
_DOB: Unknown._

_Pleasant girl in early twenties. Severely malnourished. Situation is resolving with high protein, nutrient dense diet accompanied by prescribed Nutri Packets. Significant signs of chronic malnutrition and bone loss._

_Acquired compression and transverse fractures in tibia and fibula of right leg. Prognosis complicated by osteopenia. Treating with high dose calcium supplements. Not adequate!_  
_Better outcome with nanites, blorix, and calcium magnesium infusions. Without combined treatment, fractures will take at least one solar year to heal._

_Also has biotic inhibitor. Patient expressed desire to use biotics. Too dangerous until bone density boosted to normal levels. Osteopenia should resolve with combined treatment listed above. However, inhibitor causing neural degeneration. Need to remove. Patient must gain minimum of twenty pounds before procedure._

_Scans indicate patient outfitted with GG7 biotic implants. Batarian make. Surprisingly sophisticated. When questioned about training, patient becomes ambiguous. Have stressed dangers to self when using biotics without proper training. Insists she is fine. Will continue to observe._

* * *

From: AndersonD2152@citadelmail.com  
To: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
5-21-84 07:15

Garrus,

I’ve secured the blorix and calcium magnesium infusions. Give me another day to hunt down those nanites. Expect the shipment to arrive within three days. Notify me if it doesn’t. 

Anderson


	39. Seeds of Promise

**May 28th 2184 CE 01:02**

Garrus was taking advantage of a few uninterrupted research hours. Every time he investigated Krul’s target when the others were awake, Grundan would inevitably wind up standing over his shoulder ranting and raging about the various ways he was going to kill Thralog. His latest spiel involved some creative applications with a blow torch. It had become far too distracting. He couldn’t accomplish anything with the batarian around.

That said, Thralog Mirki’it was a nasty character. Not only was he one of the most prominent red-sand manufacturers in Terminus Space but he also ran several slaver rings responsible for numerous missing persons cases throughout the galaxy. Currently, he was holed up in his private casino on Omega, notorious for being the ‘go-to’ place for seedy business deals. Unfortunately, he was a wealthy piece of crap. He had entire merc-bands at his disposal – blood thirsty men ready to live and die for credits. Taking him out would require careful, deliberate planning.

Then there was the base’s newest resident. She was a quiet presence. Aloof. Once or twice in the past couple weeks, Jane meandered into the living area and offered to help Butler with his project – converting the dining room into a bedroom. He’d let her hold a few nails. But due her injuries, there wasn’t much she could do. She never spoke unless someone dragged conversation out of her. And even then, her answers were short and to the point. Garrus couldn’t blame her. The spirits only knew what that poor girl went through. If it weren’t for Nalah, he’d be completely lost as to how to help her. At the very least, she was no longer attacking every morsel of food that came her way.

The hour was late. He should probably head to bed. While turians didn’t need as much sleep as a human, he was relatively useless without a solid four hours. However, he could hear Jane stirring in the room above him. And he wanted to try and crack that hard outer shell she wore like armor. The gentle clacking of crutches against tile floor told him she was out of bed and making her way to the living area. 

He was also curious as to how Jane was hiking her way up and down the stairs. According to Nalah, she woke long before the base’s other residents. After fixing herself some breakfast, she’d clean up and return to her temporary bedroom without leaving a trace. It was a bit like living with a ghost. There were times he’d forget she was there. Then Nalah would drag her from her fortress of solitude at dinnertime. Jane would oblige, but usually ate in silence. Still, he’d never seen Jane leave the bedroom without the older woman present to help her downstairs.

He was sitting on the sofa in a dark corner. Jane, preoccupied with the steps, hadn’t noticed him yet. She tossed one crutch to the bottom of the staircase. It landed with a resounding crack. Then she gripped the side rail and carefully placed her remaining crutch on the step below. Inch by inch she descended until she reached the bottom. 

“I have to say, that was impressive.” Not wanting to spook her into falling down the stairs, Garrus had waited until she cleared the final step.

Jane’s skin visibly jumped. She was obviously alarmed. “Oh.. Oh.. I .. uhh… Sorry didn’t see you there.”

“It was never your fault.”

“What?”

“Any of it.” Garrus patted the couch. “I have something to show you. I promise I won’t bite.”

That earned him a fleeting grin. Jane slowly made her way to the sofa and plopped down. 

“I thought you might want a few photos of your brother.” With a press of the button his omni-tool whistled and whirred. In a few moments he’d have several corporeal images of The Commander and crew. 

Jane was trying to hide her excitement. But Garrus could feel those curious eyes stealing glances at the materializing printout. When the glossy paper finally emerged, he passed it to her eager hands. 

The first photo he chose to show her was of Anderson, Udina, and the entire crew of The Normandy minus Liara. They took it before disembarking from The Citadel, before their first mission during the hunt for Saren. Even the ensigns and minor crew members were present, dressed in their crisp Alliance Blues. 

Jane traced the image with her small, delicate fingers. “I… don’t…. Which one is Jimmy?”

Of course she couldn’t identify him. She was taken as a young child – merely nine years old. Spirits, when he was nine, his biggest worry was getting caught bullshitting his way through book reports. Watching those green eyes search fruitlessly for a brother she could no longer recognize, moved him.

He prudently pointed to the bulky man saluting in the center of the photograph. Shepard was sporting his N7 armor, complete with a small armory on his back. He stood tall, proud, strong, saluting into the camera. 

“He looks so different. You’re sure that’s him?” Jane asked incredulously.

“Definitely. How do you remember him?”

“Tall. But skinny. Well, not this tall. At least I don’t think.”

“The Alliance has a lot of genetic enhancements these days. He probably took advantage of a few before enlisting. Your eyes are the same color though.”

She stared at the photo for a few more minutes before turning her attention the other printouts. One was a portrait of Shepard alone. The same one The Alliance was using for their recruitment ads. A much younger Shepard, adorned in his dress blues stared back at them. He smiled cheerfully at the camera, several scars he acquired on Noveria, Feros, and Ilos were missing. The bright-eyed marine was a mere recruit when it was taken.

Her eyes lingered on it for a few moments before turning her attention to the last image in the pile – a quick snapshot they took with Brian and Alice before departing for Terra Nova.

Suddenly, her posture stiffened. She practically ripped the final picture from his talons. “This… this is… You saved her too? You saved Sciffy? I mean 6021?”

“Right. The girl from The Rotund. You knew her, didn’t you?”

“I thought I got her killed.” She sounded lost, broken. 

“You didn’t. She has a family now. A home. A name. Alice.”

Jane abruptly burst into tears. And the next thing he knew, she had thrown her arms around him. “Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you.” The words spilled out so quickly, he could scarcely tell where one ended and the other began. It was just one big conglomeration of ‘thank you.’

Suddenly aware of herself, she withdrew. “Sorry Castor. I didn’t mean...”

Garrus chuckled. “No worries. I’m used to humans. You should’ve seen the hug Brian’s mother gave me when we arrived on Terra Nova. If her husband hadn’t intervened, I’m fairly certain that woman never would’ve let go.”

That earned him another elusive smile. 

“And it’s Garrus.” Seeing her confused look he explained. “Castor is a moniker. My real name is Garrus. Garrus Vakarian. Although, I’d appreciate it if you refrained from calling me that outside the base.”

“What’s a moniker?”

“A secret identity.”

“Ah, ok. Say, can I ask you something?” 

“Shoot.”

“Huh?”

“That means go ahead.”

“It’s rude. At least I think it is.” The wariness she had towards him seemed to be creeping back. And he hated seeing whatever progress he’d made tonight recede. 

“Jane, you can ask me anything. Honestly, I want you to. I’d rather you not be afraid of me.”

“Ohhh. It’s not that. I’m not scared of you.” She paused, chewing over her words. After a few minutes, he was almost certain she’d lost the nerve to voice the question that was clearly bothering her. Then, the words came rushing out as if she couldn’t be rid of them fast enough. “Wha... what are you?”

With that, he burst into boisterous laughter. _She’s never seen a turian before_. Given how abundant his kind was in the galaxy, the thought had never occurred to him. She was so new to everything, everyone. 

He was suddenly aware that she’d backed off and was now hiding behind her hands – a sole emerald eye peeked out between fingers. “Oh Jane don’t worry. It’s not a rude question just unexpected. I’m a turian. Wow. I’ve never explained my people from scratch before. I’m not sure where to start.”

Emboldened by his casual response, she re-emerged. “Where are you from?”

“Palaven. It’s warmer than most places on Earth. Although, not all. Humans are so versatile, it’s crazy. My planet varies between 75 to 90 degrees Fahrenheit.”

“That sounds like Kar’Shan. It would get so hot in the jungle that I’d sweat like mad. I’ve never been to Earth though.”

“You’ll get to see it one day.”

“You think so?”

“Definitely. You know, I didn’t really think about it before but I’m sorry you’re stuck on this shit-hole station.”

“That’s ok. I rather like it. Better than anyplace I’ve been in… well forever. Nalah explained it to me. It sounds like my brother was too famous for his own good. If you don’t mind my asking, what else can you tell me about your people?”

“Yeah I bet. You know, back when I served with your brother, we used to have rather educational conversations about our people in elevators. It was the first time most of us worked with other species.” 

“Oh?”

“I miss it a lot. So, don’t ever worry about being curious. I like talking about where I come from. Let’s see what else can I tell you? Well, our society is militaristic. Every turian serves in the military. At 15 we attend mandatory boot camp. And all of Palaven is run by the army – everything from schools to the police.”

Jane snorted. “You don’t say.”

“That doesn’t surprise you?”

“Nope. I saw you take down Krapo.”

“Who?”

“The captain on The Ubralle.”

“Oh… is that why you started fighting back?”

“What? No. I rather enjoyed watching you squeeze the life out of that bastard. The only reason I threw that knife at Sensat was because I thought you guys were slavers. Sorry about that by the way.”

“You have nothing to worry about. I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same in your place. Your aim was impeccable though.” He hesitated, not wanting to pry. But curiosity overcame caution. “Where did you learn to pitch knives like that?”

“Surviving. I escaped into the Kar’Shani jungles for a few years. Well, I think it was a few years anyhow. It’s not like I had a calendar.” 

They descended into comfortable silence for awhile. When Garrus spotted the time, he made to excuse himself. “Well, I really enjoyed talking to you tonight but I should catch some shut eye.”

As he stretched and made his way across the living room towards the stairs, Jane turned from her position on the couch and smiled up at him. “Garrus?”

“Yes?”

“One day, when my leg heals, could you teach me to fight? To shoot? Mordin put me on some new meds, says it’ll fix my bones.”

“Definitely.”

His answer clearly caught her off guard. “Really?”

“Of course. You should learn how to defend yourself.”

“I was… well… I guess now isn’t the right time to ask.”

“There’s never a right or wrong time. Just ask whatever you need to.”

“I want to go after them.”

“Who?”

“The people who killed Jimmy.”

It was Garrus’s turn to be caught off guard. “You’re not joking are you? How about we start with basic arms training and go from there.”

Jane eagerly agreed. And as he made his way upstairs, he couldn’t help but think that this was the start of a beautiful friendship. 


	40. Hidden Machinations

**June 7th 2184 CE 19:20**   
**Jane Shepard**   
**Location: New Bedroom on Ground Floor of Archangel’s Base**

It was different, strange really. Being here. Being alive again. After years of pretending to be a mindless drone, she wasn’t sure how to act. She could hear laughter rolling in from the living room. The entire squad was reveling in some down time after a particularly grueling training session. They were preparing for some big job – a raid they were calling it.

In order to fool the Ubralle’s crew, she became what she dreaded most – an empty shell. Apathy had sunk into her so deeply, that she feared never being able to return from the abyss. It had been at least a year since the night they dragged her away from Sciffy – the last connection to her humanity. And the sole reason she was on a gods’ forsaken star-ship. Maybe she hadn’t been pretending all that time. Maybe she died inside, it’d be no less than what she deserved after getting the kid killed. At least, that’s what she told herself on the particularly bad days. Only Sciffy was alive. She had a family, a home. Part of her – a large part – was ashamed of the jealousy that burned in the pit of her stomach. 

Jimmy had been alive all these years. If she hadn’t been a foolish dolt, she never would’ve set foot on The Ubralle. She could have been there when he attacked The Rotund. Instead, in a haze of short-sighted stupidity, she shared her rations. Survival came at a cost. That was a lesson she learned young. But that little girl woke something in her that she hadn’t even realized existed. And when they were cloistered on the floor of that cage, she would stare at Sciffy’s protruding ribs. She tried ignoring those hungered cries, the pain the kid was experiencing as her stomach ate itself in desperation. What good came of that seemingly selfless act? None. Sciffy wasn’t poorly enough to die of starvation – not yet anyway. When they sold her off, that little girl was left alone with no one to stand between her and their captors’ cruelty. And maybe, just maybe, her brother wouldn’t have been on The Normandy when it was attacked. Maybe that incremental change in his life would have been the difference between life and death. 

_“How did he die Nalah?”_

_“Sweetie, you need to rest. You can look into all this later.”_

_“Please. I need to know. I won’t sleep one wink if you don’t tell me.”_

It was only her third night back at the base. But she couldn’t wait another moment. For fourteen years, her big brother had been dead. To learn he had been alive all that time only to have him ripped away gave her whiplash.

Then came the revelation – he died the same way she was about to – _in the cold vacuum of space_. He died gasping for air that would never come. How many slaves had she seen spaced over the past couple years? She shivered. If it hadn’t been for Garrus, if he had waited even five more minutes, that too would’ve been her fate. 

However, it didn’t answer the question that haunted her every moment: _who killed Jimmy?_ It only served to puzzle her further. According to the wiki page of Historical Facts Regarding The Human Military, The Normandy was the most advanced star-ship her people had. What the ever loving fuck happened?

The more she researched Commander Shepard, the man her brother became, the more certain she was that there was more to this story than Garrus was letting on. The few times she’d caught him alone, he dodged the question. Instead, Garrus had her focused on disassembling and reassembling guns. _‘In order to use a weapon, one must learn to respect it.’_ Yet, she hadn’t survived this long without being able to read people, regardless of species. Whenever she brought the topic up, there was the slightest quiver in his mandibles. He was hiding something.

Another belt of laughter rolled in. Every inch of her wanted to join them. Why was this so difficult? How could she be these two contrary things? Ready to train in the art of death yet terrified of hobbling a few steps and sparking up a conversation with the team that saved her life?

Someone named Anderson was currently supporting her. While she was grateful, it made her incredibly uncomfortable. She wasn’t about to allow herself to become a burden. Garrus had set up a financial account for her. And it was time she figured out a way to eek out a living. In her eyes, there was no greater sin than being useless. 

At least she had one talent – music. Entertaining had been one of her duties as a slave. Despite the fact she frequently practiced in dismal conditions, she could close her eyes, feel the harmony, and be swept away to far flung worlds. Worlds of magic and freedom. Worlds where she could soar from the bare stone floor, past the Rigiri Mountains, and kiss the stars. Omega was different than what she was used to – static, artificial. She found herself lost in the silence. The edges of her room crept in, suffocating. And in her darker moments, she missed the jungle – the night sky called to her. Those years where her and Sciffy lived free and wild.

Her Rendini 4/4 violin was on its way along with recording equipment and a book of scales. And it couldn’t reach her fast enough.


	41. The Spice of Life

_Without music life would be a mistake – Friedrich Nietzsche_

**June 14th 2184CE 13:49  
**

“We need more men.” It was a simple statement of fact, regardless of how poorly the information was being received.

“Fucking hell Garrus. If we just infiltrate here and here...” The batarian roughly pointed to their blueprints of the casino. 

“Absolutely not. What do you want Krul? To die mere inches from this asshole? Or do you want to survive long enough to give him the beat down he deserves?”

“Fine. Fine. But where the fuck are we gettin’ these guys? I’m not waiting around forever.”

“I have an idea. One I’ll need your help with.”

“I’m listening.”

“What if we put out a recruitment ad? Something untraceable where fighters could send us their resumes detailing their combat experience and why they want to join up?”

“Shit. I shoulda thought of that. I’ve done it before.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Had to recruit guys right under The Hegemony’s nose. How about a ghost site?”

“You’ll need to elaborate.”

A melodious trilling floated from behind Jane’s door. Krul closed all four eyes and brought his hands before him in some strange hand waving-dance. It looked utterly ridiculous. “Focus Krul.”

“Fucking turians. Don’t understand good music when they hear it. She’s about to get to my favorite part.”

“What even is it?”

“It’s a Batarian Adagio. Damn. What was its name again?”

“Krul we really need to focus….”

“Oh fine. Ya know the Blood Pack refers to you as an uptight asshole. Sometimes I understand why.”

“Uh huh. I care so dearly about the Blood Pack’s opinion of me. So, about this ghost site.”

“It’ll only be available in certain areas – whatever you choose. We can make it accessible at any time and remove it when we see fit. It’s also completely untraceable. Basically, you pick the location you want the site to ping and that’s where it’ll ping if anyone tries to use it to hone in on our location.”

“How far are we talking here?”

“Anywhere. Doesn’t even have to be in Terminus Space.”

“Let’s have it ping Palaven Command on Menae.”

“What the fuck for?”

“I enjoy the image of droves of vorcha and mindless thugs being slaughtered without a hope. Brings a tear to the eye really.”

“Doubt even they are that stupid but you can dream. Alright. Now how do you want to word this? Want anything fancy? Should we make a banner or some shit?”

“Wait, you’re ready for that? That fast?”

“Told ya. I’ve done this before.” Kruls fingers were moving a mile a minute, typing up some code.

“What were you using this recruitment ghost site invention for?”

“Recruiting.” The batarian deadpanned.

“Krul….”

“Haven’t I earned your trust Garrus?” As if on cue, a belt of fast paced music drifted across the living area, filling the entire base with its delicate harmony. “Fuck. Is she playing Ekralya’s Allegro?”

“If you’re about to cream your pants Krul, I’d appreciate if you got the hell away from me.”

“Oh hardy har.”

“But I see your point. Yes. You’ve earned my trust. If you don’t want to share, then that’s your business.”

“Glad to hear it. Now what do you want this site to say? We also need to pick some catchy domain name.”

* * *

http://www.DieForTheCause.org

**The Archangel Squad**

Tired of criminals, gangs, and the galaxy’s scum beating on your loved ones?   
Do the revolving door prisons put a damper in your step?

Send in your resume for a chance to join the notorious, the infamous, Archangel Squad. 

We free slaves, protect civilians, and take a hard line on crime.   
We do the dirty jobs the governments are unwilling to admit need to be done.  
And we do it in style.

Seen the influx of liberated slaves in Citadel Space?  
That was us.  
Heard of the new protections enjoyed by Omega’s most vulnerable?  
That **is** us.

Saddled with relentless rules and regulations that allow the galaxy’s scourge to escape and continue their brutal crimes?  
  
 **Take a stand today.**

*Minimum Requirements: Small arms training

Click HERE to apply.

* * *

  
“There.” Once finished typing out his ad, Garrus passed the laptop back to Krul

“Now, where do we want this site to be accessible?”

“Let’s try the Citadel.”

“You really think people who can afford to live there are gonna want to come to this shit-hole?”

“Spoken like someone who hasn’t worked in C-Sec. That place is insufferable.”

“Alright. It’s live. Now if you don’t need me anymore, apparently we’ve taken in a master violinist. And I have a few requests.” Krul clapped his hands together and quickly made his way to Jane’s doorway where he silently plopped down. After a few moments, he grabbed a pen and paper, scribbled something, and passed it beneath the door.

The music paused for a moment. When it started up again, Garrus recognized the tune from earlier – a batarian adagio Krul had called it. And there he was waving his hands in the air to the rhythm of the music. The song was pretty. But Garrus failed to hear what was so enthralling about it. His tastes were a bit more turian. Hard metal, shrill notes – sounds one could beat a guy to death to. He shrugged, to each their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to listen to the song Krul requested from Jane clicky click here. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bOBLFmf6Edw
> 
> There were two songs referenced but the other was part of a compilation that I seem to have lost track of. I’m not used to linking the songs that inspire this fic. Now that we’ve found Jane, that’ll probably change. I hope you guys like music because, well, if this story could transform into some wicked violin concert, it would.


	42. Another Day in the Life

**June 20 th 2184CE 11:22**

There were a few things Garrus began noticing about Jane. One was the fact that she was incredibly observant. His father always said ‘ _you can never lie to a batarian_.’ And he was beginning to think that despite the lack of four eyes, Jane picked up such talent in captivity. The other was particularly surprising – she was most at ease around Krul. Other than their single late night conversation, Jane hadn’t really spoken to him much. She questioned him about her brother’s fate a couple times and so far he’d successfully dodged talking about reapers, galactic annihilation, and other absurdities. Although, she clearly didn’t believe the party-line that the geth were responsible. To his surprise, she displayed little interest in who her brother was. She was solely focused on his death. Yet it was plain to see whenever they sat around the dinner table. If Krul was present, there was an invisible tension that simply evaporated from her shoulders.

Garrus had shown her gun basics – how to clean and maintain, assemble and disassemble. The girl was an eager, disciplined student. Without being asked, she went through the entire armory and polished every weapon until it shone. But her vocalizations had regressed back to one or two word sentences. She’d nod, say please and thank you, yet that was about it. Music aside, she was a silent helper. Never seen but heard.

Unbeknownst to her, Jane was revealing a softer side to Krul. She had taken to playing some primitive human instrument on a daily basis. However, the songs she was belting out were batarian. And Krul couldn’t get enough. He’d sit on the opposite side of the door, rocking to the music and clapping after every song. It made Garrus realize just how homesick Grundan was; despite his extreme, often confusing, hostility towards his own kind.

Currently, he was putting the final touches on one of many strategies for their raid on Thralog’s casino. In order to avoid taking on the entire stronghold at once, he had devised a plan to draw out at least half his forces. Once they were dealt with, they’d simply blow the doors open. He still didn’t like their numbers, but thanks to the new Archangel Website he had a stack of resumes waiting for him.

Formulating battle plans against the back drop of Jane’s music certainly gave his work a new flavor. The light melodies drifting from behind her door served to incite some fairly creative ideas. What he didn’t understand was her choice in instruments. With an electric keyboard, one could play every instrument in the galaxy. Plus, they seemed less complicated and archaic than a blob of wood strung with a bunch of taught wires. That said, she seemed to know what she was doing. Every morning at 06:30 she’d practice drills while he and his men were performing their own military version. At least she had something to occupy her. Despite having every essential medication, Mordin informed her that it would be a few months until her leg was fully healed. According to Nalah, she was less than pleased. 

He turned his attention to the literal crap-load of resumes. Most who applied neglected to write cover letters or half-assed theirs thinking he was merely after fighters. Truthfully, he was only interested in people with heart. Individuals willing to live and die by their team’s ideals – to better the lives of the galaxy’s most vulnerable. Plus, with Jane living at the base, he had to be extra cautious not to allow a predator into their midst.

After an hour of mind-numbing drivel, a pair of resumes caught his attention. It was the sole application to be submitted as a set. And one of the applicants was not only turian but had an extremely similar background to himself – minus reapers and spectre training of course.

* * *

Mierin Regidus  
MRegius74@citadelmail.com   
https://www.linkedingalaxywide.com/in/regius-mierin  
(1224) 591-58185

 **Experience** :

 **2175 – 2179:** Served in the Turian Military as a youth to gain full tier citizenship. Trained in small arms, shot guns, and biotic grenades. The latter was provided by various cabal teams as I am not a biotic. However, I am proficient in their use.

 **2179 – Present:** C-Sec officer assigned to Zakera Ward. My duties include busting up drug deals, tracking red-sand contraband, and keeping the local gangs in check. I’ve also assisted in several homicide cases and participated in a sting that brought down a slaver ring smuggling people through the wards.

Weaver Newberry  
Newberry09W@hotmailz.com  
https://www.linkedingalaxywide.com/in/weaver-newberry  
(1224) 906-19482

  
**Experience:**

**216** **0** **– 2184:** NYPD officer. Trained in small arms, shotguns, and hand to hand combat.

  * **2160 – 2169** Beat cop. Worked primarily out of Harlem

  * **2169 – 2171** Worked Vice.

  * **2171 – 2184** Transferred over to homicide.

    * Duties included crime-scene analysis, interviewing suspects, training raw recruits, and general security.

  * Additional experience as an undercover agent, personally responsible for the downfall of three major meth labs.




**January 2184 – Present:** C-Sec officer assigned to Zakera ward. Took part in a raid that eliminated a slaver ring responsible for over 50 kidnappings from Citadel Space.

Dear Archangel Squad,

We are writing to express interest in joining your team in whichever roles you deem necessary. We believe our work experience and skills are compatible with intense, high stress situations. 

Currently, we are employed as C-Sec officers on the citadel. And are full-time partners. It has been a great honor striving to keep peace in a turbulent, often violent society. However, our laws have turned against the common man, allowing corruption to slip through. We want a chance to truly make a difference in this galaxy and not stand idle while it crumbles around us.

* * *

The essay, a well-written but obvious attempt at pandering, was of little interest to him. These guys could get the job done but he wanted to know who they were at the core. What made them tick? “Hey Krul?”

“What?” The batarian answered gruffly.

“Could you work your magic? I have a couple potentials. And I’d like some background information on them.”

Thirty minutes and a fresh bowl of Blast Ohs later, Grundan called him over to the sofa. “Ready when you are. I’ve got some emails they sent to each other when collaborating on their cover-letter and I can even tap into their communications if you want to listen in.”

“Woah. Woah. Wait a second Krul, you can hack citadel security coms?”

“I’ve got some old C-Sec codes. They’re letting my virus bypass C-Sec firewalls.”

“You…. You… have C-Sec codes.” The notion that the security force entrusted with The Council’s safety was so easily mitigated was absurd.

“Well, your guys just left them right there for me to find.” Krul grinned. “And then they did me the favor of not bothering to update them.”

“I always knew they were morons.”

“Whatever. You want to read or not?”

* * *

From: MRegius74@citadelmail.com   
To: Newberry09W@hotmailz.com

Weaver is a butt  
Weaver looks at smut  
His girl turned out to be a nut  
And now he can’t somethin… somethin… fuck!

From: Newberry09W@hotmailz.com  
To: MRegius74@citadelmail.com 

Now that the juvenile is asleep, let the real men handle things. I was thinking our cover letter should open with something less formal. You turians all have a stick up your ass. This guy shoots mercs for sport. I don’t think he gives a flying shit about procedure.

From: MRegius74@citadelmail.com   
To: Newberry09W@hotmailz.com

No. I’m writing the cover letter, case closed. You can beat up your resume with an ugly stick if it bothers you. 

From: Newberry09W@hotmailz.com  
To: MRegius74@citadelmail.com 

Kid, I’ve been a cop for 25 years. I’m telling you this guy doesn’t give a hooha about brown-nosing kiss asses.

From: MRegius74@citadelmail.com   
To: Newberry09W@hotmailz.com  
I’ve been in C-Sec for years, first contact with the humans was before I was born. And even I don’t know what ‘hooha’ means. For all we know, he’s a hanar. I’m pretty sure that word would make a jelly’s head explode.

From: Newberry09W@hotmailz.com  
To: MRegius74@citadelmail.com 

If he’s a fucking HANAR, I’m gonna run like my ass in on fire!!

From: MRegius74@citadelmail.com   
To: Newberry09W@hotmailz.com  
I don’t see how acting like an uneducated nincompoop is supposed to be appealing.

From: Newberry09W@hotmailz.com  
To: MRegius74@citadelmail.com 

Fine. Whatever. I know when you’ve dug your damn heels in. Heading down to Chora’s Den later. Want to grab a drink? Or will you be too busy writing up your namby pamby essay?

From: MRegius74@citadelmail.com   
To: Newberry09W@hotmailz.com

Meet you there at 19:00.

* * *

“I like their style. Provided the background check clears, we’re calling these guys in for a trial run.” Garrus immediately began searching the criminal database for evidence of misdeeds.

“Wait, letting them into base? Already?” Sensat had wandered into the living area to take advantage of the momentarily free gaming console Ripper usually monopolized.

“Of course not. I’ll set them up in a hotel. We’ll meet, train, and maybe even raid the casino together. Then I’ll decide whether or not to bring them on as full members. Krul, do you have that private server up and running?”

“Who the fuck do you take me for? Let’s get this moving.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that I have the details ironed out, I've edited the tags. We'll be learning a great deal about a certain alien culture in the near future. But my doc folder is an insane mess. So, I added the tags early to keep me on track.


	43. An Eye in the Sky

It started innocently enough. The combination of boredom and insomnia intermingled one evening and lead Liara to pull up her Omega feeds. In his last email, Garrus was bragging about The Alliance owing him a tropical vacation. And despite her lack of communication, she grew curious. At first, she thought he was referring to the influx of freed slaves The Citadel had seen in recent months. Yet her spyware picked up an unusual funds transfer by none other than Councilor Anderson. The moment she saw the recipient, Castor Surion, she couldn’t help but investigate.

What she didn’t expect was to fall into a worm-hole of possibilities. An extremely curious ex-slave was staying with Garrus. Given the date she first appeared, it seems she was part of a larger group of recently liberated slaves. But why wasn’t she on the transport with all the rest? What was Garrus’s interest? Liara pulled up the data from the girl’s omni-tool. After scrolling midway, her blood froze.

_**Jane Doe’s Omni-Tool Activity May 29th – Present Day**_

_(Search)_ **Common human languages**

_(Search)_ **Rishini to English dictionary** Downloaded PDF **.**

_(Search)_ **English for beginners**

  * Course Guide English 101for Native Rishini Speakers **–** Downloaded PDF. Deleted after 3 days 10 minutes 11 seconds




_(Search)_ **How to read English**

  * Englishfor Dummies: Downloaded PDF. Deleted after 7 days 2 hours 24 minutes 44 seconds.




_(Search)_ **Is learning new languages a waste of time?**

_(Search)_ **Text translator for native Rishini speakers**. Downloaded and installed to sub-dermal implant 0944132.

[Purchase] GG Rosin

[Purchase] Scales on Tape (Expert Level)

[Purchase] Rendini 4/4 Violin for Experienced Players

_(Search)_ **SSV Normandy**

  * Article: Humans and Turians Mend Fences After First Contact War

  * Article: The Alliance’s Pride and Joy: The SSV Normandy




_(Search)_ **First Contact War**

  * Article **:** Relay 314 Incident: What You Should Know from ANN




_(Search)_ **Things Commander Shepard fought**

_(Search)_ **Geth**

_(Search)_ **Geth schematics for dummies**

  * Quantum Mechanics 101 PDF Deleted after 6 minutes 29 seconds




**  
**_(Search)_ **What is a quarian?**

_(Search)_ **How smart are quarians?**

_(Search)_ **How to kill geth**

  * Diagrams of Common Geth Platforms Strengths and Soft Spots: A Study Guide for Alliance Recruits Downloaded PDF




_(Search)_ **Eden Prime Commander Shepard**

  * Body cam footage obtained from Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams RAW UNCUT, 22 minutes 13 seconds. Watched 17 times




_(Search)_ **Commander Shepard in action:**

  * Training with Spectres a Visual Report by Mia Watts 1 hour 52 minutes. Watched 22 times.

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* * *

Her fingers took on a life of their own. Fast as lighting, they pulled up Garrus’s contact information.

From: LiaraT2145@SerriceUniversity.edu  
To: [Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com](mailto:Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com)

Subject: URGENT

Garrus,

If your new house-mate is who I think she is, you need to encrypt her omni-tool ASAP.

Sincerely,

Liara

* * *

Maybe there was some hope left in the galaxy afterall.


	44. You've Got Mail Part 3

From: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
To: LiaraT2145@SerriceUniversity.edu 

Hey,

Thanks for the heads up. I didn’t even know she had an omni-tool already. Guess I don’t have to buy one. Could you send me a PDF of her omni-activity? I have to know if something needs to be scrubbed. She couldn’t remember all her keystrokes. 

Before you ask how I missed the violin, I thought she paid one of my squadmates to pick it up at the market.

Garrus

* * *

  
From: LiaraT2145@SerriceUniversity.edu   
To: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com

I could only disseminate what she’s searched, not every keystroke. Hopefully, that’s enough. I’ll keep working on it however.

I know it’s not why you did it. But thank you…. It really doesn’t suffice.

Attached: ENCRYPTED – OMNI449.PDF

* * *

From: LiaraT2145@SerriceUniversity.edu   
To: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com

Is she ok? Wait, that’s a stupid question isn’t it.

* * *

From: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
To: LiaraT2145@SerriceUniversity.edu 

She’s incredibly resilient. But I know why you ask. Spirits, some of her searches break the heart a little.

* * *

From: LiaraT2145@SerriceUniversity.edu   
To: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com

Thank you for looking out for her. You’re doing a good thing Garrus.

* * *

From: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
To: YourBigDaddi24@citadelmail.com  
7-13-84 05:32

Hey buddy you still alive? I haven’t heard from you since that drunken email about Ryncol.

* * *

  
 _[Sent from unsecured satellite connection]_  
From: GiantSpaceMonster998@citadelmail.com   
To: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
7-19-84 15:37

These fucking krogan are idiots. Can’t believe I’m bothering with this shit. If you get yourself killed and run into Shepard, tell him to get fucked. He’s the ass-hat who convinced me I should try to help my people. Been eating pyjack for months and what do I have to show for it? A whole fuck ton of nothing. Fucking idiots. Now I have to find a new fucking cave. I’m gonna blow that clan chief’s head off.

* * *

From: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
To: GiantSpaceMonster998@citadelmail.com   
7-19-84 15:39

Good luck with… everything I guess. Or should I say ‘good ammo?’

* * *

From: GiantSpaceMonster998@citadelmail.com   
To: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
7-19-84 15:44

You are such a turian.

* * *

From: Talizorah_Vas_Neema@migrantfleet.org  
To: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
7-28-84 23:11

I’m baaaack! Damn Garrus, you can’t leave me hanging like that! Now it’s going to bother me. I really, really, want to know what trouble you got into.

I’m in the Terminus Systems a lot these days. But I’ve never been to Omega. I hear it’s an utter shit-hole. What made you choose that station? If I get any time off when I’m in the neighborhood, I’ll stop by. The Migrant Fleet has me wearing holes in my suit, I have so much to do.

* * *

  
From: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
To: Talizorah_Vas_Neema@migrantfleet.org  
7-30-84 23:11

I sincerely hope that’s some sort of Quarian expression. If you truly wore holes in your suit, wouldn’t you die?

I’m here to kick ass. But I want to be sure those who wind up under my boot truly deserve it. On Omega, all I have to do is point my gun and shoot.

* * *

From: Talizorah_Vas_Neema@migrantfleet.org  
To: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
7-30-84 23:12

It’s a miracle! We’re on at the same time. 

Oh and yes. It’s an expression. 

* * *

From: Talizorah_Vas_Neema@migrantfleet.org  
To: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
7-30-84 23:44

Garrus?

* * *

From: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
To: Talizorah_Vas_Neema@migrantfleet.org  
7-30-84 23:45

Sorry Tali. I guess I just have some things to deal with before tomorrow. Big day.

* * *

From: Talizorah_Vas_Neema@migrantfleet.org  
To: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
7-30-84 23:46

I’ll let you get to it then. Hope everything’s alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if it's shared, given how cryptic I've been, but I'm incredibly enthusiastic for the upcoming chapters. It's always a long, grueling process taking all those vids in my head, all the characters running around making noise and expressing them in text. I'm excited to see the threads of a major character come together. My poor doc folder though. It's such a disorganized mess lol.


	45. What Have I Become?

**July 30th 2184 CE 18:23**

_A person who trusts no one now, once trusted someone too much – John von Neumann II_

With a month of team building exercises under their belt, Garrus announced that the casino raid was taking place in two days. Mierin and Weaver were comfortably situated at Hotel Denure. The new additions to the team were proving to be invaluable. With the boost in manpower, they had successfully decimated a particularly bothersome gang of vorcha, who were suspiciously organized. They even managed to push The Bloodpack out of the Kenzo District entirely. It was an amazing feeling watching ordinary citizens gradually begin venturing outside, knowing his team played a crucial role in their ability to do so.

However, Krul received some intel regarding the joint Thralog was holed up in. And Garrus was fairly certain that if he were to die tomorrow, Grundan would dig him up just to accentuate how he was going to slaughter every living being in that casino. It was a drastic shift in mood from the past few weeks. And it was making Garrus increasingly uncomfortable.

“They all die. Every. Last. One.” The batarian punctuated as if each individual syllable was a bullet. 

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that. What if some are non-combatants?” 

“We’re doing this at 3 a.m – after hours. Every bastard in that joint is with Thralog. They aren’t non-combatants but a few are gimps.”

“Krul….”

“No! Garrus. No! You said this is my show. You owe me one and I’m cashing in my chips.”

Garrus let loose an irritated sigh. “Just tell me this isn’t about some turf war.”

“You know me better than that.”

“Hey, I know we’re all killers. Given what you did for Jane, I’ve been extremely understanding about your lack of forthrightness.” Garrus pointed at the batarian for emphasis. “But if you want me to do this, I need more from you than ‘they’re bad’ to order my men to kill a bunch of guys I know nothing about.”

Krul glared at him with a look of utter disgust. Minutes passed. But Garrus refused to give an inch. “Thralog will die. You have my promise on that. The man is yours to do with as you please. But the rest….I need you to give me something for spirit’s sake!”

“Thralog Mirki’it and his ilk are traitors to my kind.” Grundan’s voice was low, harsh. “And I won’t rest until I’ve plowed my blade through their hearts and pissed on their corpses.” The last few words were roared, howled.

“Krul….”

“Listen Garrus, you either trust me or you don’t. And if you don’t, then go fuck yourself. I’ll do this on my own.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. A lone man would be slaughtered against this stronghold.”

“This is a cause worth dying for. Take that for what you will.”

The pair stood in tense silence for what felt like hours, neither man willing to bend. It was Garrus who finally broke the faux calm. “You’re right. I owe you a lot. And if it were just me, I’d have your back in this. No questions asked. But I have a responsibility to my men, a promise. I need to think about it.”

“Fine. Guess that’s the best I can hope for.” Grundan stormed off, leaving Garrus alone to mull over this drastic turn of events.

* * *

* * *

  
**Several hours later….**

Unable to sleep, Garrus wandered the living area. He tried everything from booting up Galaxy of Fantasy to writing unsent drivel to the former Normandy team. Yet, nothing could put enough distance between himself and this dilemma. He needed to step back, gain some perspective. If he didn’t follow through with Krul’s demands, it was clear that he’d lose the batarian – a man he’d begun to regard as a close friend. But what he was asking went against everything they stood for. Was he truly considering murdering people who didn’t stand a chance against them? 

“Garrus?” A soft voice reached out in the darkness. The utter shock of disrupted silence caused him to jump in surprise. 

“Spirits! How do you manage that? Never knew anyone who could sneak up on a turian.” Since her cast was removed, Jane’s leg was in a soft but sturdy cloth brace. Without the crutches clacking against her every step, it was difficult to pinpoint where she was in the base.

“Practice makes perfect.” She was leaning on a rubber-tipped cane, merely a couple feet from his position on the living room floor.

“Right. Jane, I’d love to chat but I … it’s not a good time.”

“Is this about Krul? What he asked you to do?”

“I take it you heard our disagreement.”

“Pretty sure everyone did. He’s not exactly soft spoken.”

“You don’t say.” Garrus snorted. “I can’t believe he doesn’t trust me enough to give the whole story.”

Jane paused. He could feel those large, emerald eyes searching his face. “I think it’s a batarian thing. The Hegemony’s rule isn’t exactly easy to live under. You get used to lying your way through life just to survive. Comes as naturally as breathing.” 

  
Thanks in no small part to Krul, Jane had made some amazing strides in the past month. They had struck up a sweet, timid friendship. On several occasions, Garrus spotted them passing notes under her door. The batarian tried educating him once about what they were discussing, his mind lingered less than two minutes before drifting off. It had something to do with ‘music theory,’ a subject that couldn’t be further from his interests. Yet, he couldn’t argue with results. Jane was gradually emerging from her shell, leaving her room and speaking more frequently. 

“What he’s asking, taking the lives of helpless people….” 

She didn’t respond for awhile and the silence stretched on. With an almost imperceptible sigh, Jane settled on the floor beside him. “But I know him. He’s a good man.”

While he understood that the pair got on well, their friendship was new. Sometimes Jane almost seemed like a child, so young. Naive. 

“Thanks I’m still thinking about it. But I appreciate you weighing in.” _It wasn’t rude, just a nudge in the direction of I need some time alone._

She stood, and for a fraction of a second, she hesitated. A gesture he was certain wasn’t meant to be perceived. “He’d be missed. And not just by me.” 

Jane wandered back to bed. And Garrus was left alone once more, his thoughts swirling like a dark tornado.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I finally posted the codex for this fic. I sort of forgot about it for a bit there. (Thank you for the nudge Seikkah.) It's still heavily redacted but will be fleshed out as the story progresses. :P


	46. A Thirst for Death

**August 1st 2184 CE 21:01**

Given that his team wasn’t comprised of battle-hardened soldiers, Garrus had most of the men change their sleep schedules gradually so they’d be alert and ready for their 3 a.m. raid. Considering Ripper and Krul’s past experience, the two were allowed to switch up at their own discretion. The rest were put on a strict itinerary. And more than once, Butler grumbled about how ludicrous it was that he had a ‘bed time.’ 

He reviewed the casino’s new intel multiple times since his and Krul’s disagreement. There was no way around it, that joint would have non-combatants lingering after-hours. Employees. If the batarian wanted to strike before they vetted the entire staff he’d have to play by his rules. One could only hope that the man had calmed down after a solid rest.

After summoning Krul to the kitchen, Garrus began with a weary sigh. “I’ve put a great deal of thought into this. And here’s what’s going to happen tomorrow. Thralog will die by your hand, in whichever way you deem necessary. Anyone who doesn’t surrender immediately or fails to hand over weapons, will be killed.”

“But you will be accepting surrenders?”

“Unless they give me reason not to, yes. Your other options are to either tell me what’s really going on or to wait. We can hold off on the raid until I’ve vetted the employees. If they’re aware of Thralog’s business deals and are there of their own free will, I won’t have any issues putting them down.”

Krul hissed as he absorbed the information. “But Thralog is mine? I’m warning you now, what I do to that bastard isn’t gonna be pretty.”

“All yours.”

“I need to know one more thing.”

“Alright.”

“If this thing goes to hell, and I wind up dead. I need to know you’ll finish the job. And you can’t just put a bullet in his head. I need Thralog blinded before death. It’s some batarian religious shit. However he dies, it has to be through his eyes.”

“You’re religious?” The entire notion seemed ludicrous.

“I don’t believe in that shit. The gods are dead and we killed ‘em. But Thralog believes it. That’s what matters.”

“I’m not going to ask. But you have my word. Anyhow, we need to gather the rest of the team and go over our plan of attack. Now I know it pains you, but given that this will be Weaver and Mierin’s first big job. Could you at least try to be decently behaved?”

“No promises but I’ll put in an effort if that makes you happy.”

“Still haven’t had the Jane talk with them yet. So, we’ll hold the debrief at the hotel. After you run your anti-listening device of course.”

“If you want, leave it to me. I’ll be sure to emphasize the punishment for laying a hand on her – disembowelment. Ripper would be another good choice. He can really put the fear of god into a man.”

“I’m slightly insulted Krul. Think I can’t get that point across?”

“You may be spiky kid. But your insides are warm and fuzzy.”

“Kid huh? How old are you exactly?”

“Older than you.”

“So charming. Well, let’s get moving. We only have a few hours to fine tune our plan with the whole squad.”

As Garrus loaded up the necessary guns and grenades, he couldn’t help but feel as though an enormous weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Given how hell-bent Krul had been on annihilating the casino, and every soul within, he half expected the batarian to storm off on a suicide mission when he broke the news about accepting surrenders. At least he saw reason in the end.

* * *

* * *

* * *

  
Once the team, newbies included, was assembled at Hotel Denure, Garrus addressed the room. “Today, we are bringing down one one nasty SOB. He goes by the name Thralog Mirki’it. He’s a red sand manufacturer, slaver, and runs one shady ass casino here on Omega. That said, Krul will be debriefing us. This is a personal mission of his and he is most familiar with Thralog’s tactics.”

Garrus could practically taste the anticipation in the air. The look on Krul’s face as he addressed them was ravenous. “Alright, first thing to know about this bastard is that he likes his poison. Everyone is supplied with breathers aside from the turians. Since you two are dextro and naturally more resilient against this type of attack, you have little to worry about. But keep your helmets close just in case. Don’t go charging into a cloud of this shit without protection. The rest of us, especially you Sensat, are vulnerable.” Grundan quickly panned to the casino blue-prints. “The powder he uses is a mixture of red sand and organophosphates. It’s designed to relax the user and send him into a euphoria. By the time victims realize something’s wrong, it has ‘em by the balls. So, if anyone starts feeling like they can conquer the galaxy in their birthday suit, speak the fuck up. While our breathers protect us from inhalation exposure, our eyes are still susceptible.”

“We suspect Thralog will use these custom grenades to slow down our progress while they try and reinforce their position.” Garrus interjected. “So, we hit them hard and fast. They can’t set off clouds of toxic gas ….”

“It’s a powder.” Krul interrupted.

“Does it matter?” 

“Nah. But it’s a lot easier to see.”

“Anyway, as I was saying, they can’t set these off in close proximity to themselves. We should expect close quarters combat. Mierin, Krul, and I will be the spearhead of this attack. The rest of you will bring up the rear. We’ll be keeping the gassers off you while you mop up the rest. If our groups are separated at any point, Ripper is in charge of the rear guard. Also, I snagged goggles for the non-dextros in the group.” Garrus tossed a handful of gaudy eye pieces onto the table. 

“Aw boss.” Ripper moaned. “You’s really gots us wearin’ this crap? I’ll look like a bug-eyed poodle in this”

“I’d pay to see that.” Weaver snorted. 

“Shut it pig.”

“Don’t start.” Garrus cut the men short. “And I’m going out on a limb here Ripper, but I assumed the notion of bleeding out of your eyes, or whatever happens with this crap, would be motivation enough.”

“Yeah yeah.”


	47. My Empire of Dirt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning. A child's death is referenced in this chapter.

_Because misery, and degradation, and death, and nothing that God or Satan could inflict would have parted us, you, of your own will did it. […] Be with me always—take any form—drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you [my purpose]! Oh, God! it is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul! -_ Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights taken out of context and slightly edited to suit my needs.

Garrus was becoming increasingly concerned about Krul. As they inched closer to Thralog, his companion seemed to be growing progressively more agitated. 

First it was the body guard. Krul leapt forward and slashed his throat. As the man crumpled, he stole the butt of his rifle and bashed his skull until it was nothing more than a conglomeration of blood and brain matter. That wasn’t extreme in Garrus’s book, not by a long shot. However losing one’s cool and bringing a knife to a gun fight was. Krul was taking insane risks, darting out of cover at the slightest sign of retreat. He fought like a man possessed; with the skill of an elite soldier and an unquenchable rage, the likes of which Garrus had never seen before.

The further they progressed, the more vicious Krul became. If an opportunity arose, he’d risk life and limb to drive the knife in while maintaining mere inches from his opponent’s face. Once again, he was taken back by the unfettered disgust Krul seemed to have for his own kind. 

They inched forward. Most of the guards were batarian, along with a few krogan. Garrus and Mierin were in the front ranks, while the squishies hung back, sniping and tossing grenades. Everyone aside from Krul at least. He was abiding by their deal, even if he pushed the very definition of the meaning ‘combat’ while doing it. Clearly, he was hoping to kill every soul in the joint before they had a chance to surrender.

When a small group of batarians raised their hands, screaming for mercy; Garrus disarmed and tied them. He turned to Krul. “They’re off limits.”

The batarian said nothing. However, a spiteful, rancorous shadow crossed his face before they pressed forward.

Ahead, a group of commandos flanked a pair of krogan were attempting to set up turrets. Krul’s omni tool, in a burst of orange and blue, overloaded the machines. They backfired, setting all but the krogan aflame. Despite the imminent danger the krogan presented, Krul snatched the opening the distracted commandos presented and rushed forward to slit their throats. “Are you mad Krul!?” Garrus bellowed after him. “You have two….”

“Just shoot ‘em and be done with it.” Grundan shouted back. As he summoned a pair of drones to harass the krogan charge, he somersaulted backwards and landed behind a poker table. 

“You’s been holdin’ back on us Krul.” Ripper clamored through the gunfire. “You’s gots some sweet moves.” 

“Never show your hand until it counts kid.”

After another thirty minutes of intense fighting, Garrus pulled his men back and ordered Sensat to toss some smoke grenades into the fray. Once the hostiles were blinded, he finished them with off with the help of his visor. “Alright men. Ahead, there’s only one heat signature left. And I’d bet good money it’s the illustrious Mister Mirki’it.”

The smoke cleared to reveal a raised, red velvet platform. The architecture seemed to speak as though it housed a king. With the fighting over, Krul removed his breather and proceeded behind Garrus as they scaled the podium.

When they came upon Thralog, the batarian was raging. “Archangel! Heard about you. The fuck is this for? What’d I ever do to you? What do you want? Creds? Is that what you want? This some shakedown? Fuckin’ asshole coulda asked. Instead of blowing my staff away. Now you’re gonna...”

“Never mind me. I’m here for a friend. Something tells me you two are acquainted.”

“Doubt we have mutual acquaintances.” Thralog hissed. It was at that exact moment Grundan stormed from behind Garrus, shotgun leveled. “N-no…. It can’t be.”

“What.” Krul’s voice was practically venomous. “See a ghost?” His hands moved like liquid. The next thing any of them knew, a boot knife had Thralog’s arm pinned against the wall. The man howled as Grundan twisted the blade, hissing. “Think I wouldn’t find you? Should have double checked whatever poor sod they executed in my place.”

“Ikalem” Thralog spat.

“ **Hegemony cur**.” Another twist.

“W-AA-W-What?” Countless sharp teeth bit into a brown-grey lip, droplets of blood splattered, as he gurgled. “Come on some eternal quest for answers? Here to kill me?” 

“No.” Inches from Thralog’s face, Krul reached into his pocket and pulled out a kerchief. He balled it and shoved into the man’s mouth. “You’re just going to listen. I don’t care why you did it. I don’t care if it was for creds, a life of luxury, or a good fuck. I don’t give a flying shit if The Hegemony’s best tied you down and burned it out of you. We all had an out, a pact. I’m here to collect what’s due. For your crimes against the batarian people, for every value you betrayed, for breaking your oath, I’m here to sentence you Thralog Cen Mirki’it. You will find no eternal peace. No warmth at the end. Your soul is doomed to wither and die. I’m here to take your eyes.”

With a shocking amount of force, Thralog began violently lashing out. He scarcely managed to throw Krul off before he whipped out his shotgun and pressed it into Mi’krit’s other arm. With a resounding blast the arm shattered, boneless, and fell to his side.

As Thralog was shrieked and thrashed, Krul coldly reloaded his gun. “Do you know what the final tally was?” His was voice low, calm. Too calm. “Five thousand, nine hundred and eighty-two. **Five thousand, nine hundred and eighty-two**. Dead. . .I mean, the scale of it.” He shook his head and loosed single bullet. It fell to the ground. _Clink_. Suddenly, Garrus realized it wasn’t Krul’s usual shotgun. In fact, he’d never seen anything like it. _Limited, corporeal ammunition. Wood handle._

“You know what they did? After sending fighter jets and bombs against a village built out of stone and homemade **yabni**?” _Clink_. “They took to the jungles.” _Clink_. “They butchered us down to the last babe. And by the last babe, I mean the last… You fuckin’ remember that family? Fuck what was their name? Right the Pron'mochars.” He shook momentarily. From tip to toe, a deep, agonizing tremble. Yet it was gone so swiftly, Garrus almost wondered if his eyes had played tricks on him. “How old was their kid? Nineteen months. Right…. You know what The Hegemony did? They slit his throat and hung him in the square. The **al'awghads**.” _Clink_. “They were planning on hanging me next to him.” _Clink_. “Really rape the fuck outta whatever hope the townspeople had left.” _Clink_. “But then I found out. I found out it was you.” His voice cracked. “Of all … of all people. Well. Couldn’t let what’s left of The Resistance, two-legged mongrel of a beast that it is now, take on the responsibility. No. I’d have to put you down myself. Do it right.” _Clink_. “One. Last. Mission.”

Thralog kicked, fell to the floor, and wriggled out of his gag. He shrieked as he toppled to the ground. “ **SEPARATIST. HE’S A SEPARATIST**.”

“Fuck off.” Krul kicked the squirming form in the head.

“Batarian Separatists are an enemy of The Hierarchy. You’re **TURIAN**. Surely you can’t ignore this. It’s… It’s… treason!” Blood poured from his mouth. 

It was subtle, but it was there. All those years of mandatory boot-camp weren’t hard-wired into them for nothing. Mierin flinched towards his holster. 

“You’re still going to die today Thralog.” Garrus bit out evenly, stepping in front of Mierin. “I don’t care who he is. I owe him a debt. Plus, you’ve been up to some very nasty things. Tsk Tsk. Slaves. Red-sand. Think I’ll let him take the trash out.” 

A moment. A fraction of a second. By the time he spotted the gun, it was halfway out of Thralog’s boot. Garrus leaped and slammed into his arm. It fired aimlessly a few times. At least he hoped it was aimless. “Everyone good?”

What began as a murmur of assent, quickly turned sharp. “Krul’s hit.” Ripper scarcely had the words out before Krul began bellowing “I’M FINE.” Garrus turned. Grundan’s knee and shoulder had been blown out. _Pistol. Medium caliber. Urgent but not critical. Vital signs stable._ However, the batarian was struggling hopelessly to regain his footing. After slipping in a pool of red, he relented. “F-f-f-fine. F-f-finish him.”

Garrus grabbed a sack of red sand-laced poison and peeled open each of Thralog’s quivering eyelids. Meticulously, he poured it in, watching the irises expand until there was nothing but inky black. 

He tossed the bag aside and stepped backwards, into Krul’s grasping hands “I..I.. need to watch. Please. I need to watch until it’s over.” The body was seizing. And despite wanting nothing more than to turn and be free of the wretched sight, Garrus helped Krul close the distance before returning to his men.

A hushed silence fell over the entire casino. Even the hostages dared not utter a sound. Everything that had come to light had set Garrus’s head spinning. Given what Thralog was responsible for, he didn’t begrudge Krul needing that monster dead. But a part of him was shocked by his own actions. He butchered a man at the behest of a sworn enemy to The Hierarchy. Hell, before leaving the turian military, he’d fought batarian separatists. Now he was helping one? 

When the body ceased moving and he heard the distinct rattle of death escape, Garrus spoke up. “Alright Krul, if that’s even your real name. We need to get you to the doc. And… then we need to talk.”

Grundan was hunched over the body. His voice was soft, almost tender. It was a sound he’d never thought to hear from the batarian. “Thank you, my friend.” He stood, wobbled, and steadied himself. “I’m sorry I lied to you. It was for your protection as much as mine. But...most of all I’m just sorry…. So sorry.” Standing upright, both arms stretched towards some unseeen horizon, Krul fell backwards into the bag of powder. A red-mushroom cloud erupted around him. 

The next few moments were a blur. Half of him moved forward – the instinct to save a friend was undeniable. Yet, for a split second, the other half halted him in his steps – this was a sworn enemy of his people. Aware that Mierin caught his momentary hesitation, Garrus pulled Krul from the powder. “Toss the hostages in the back room, seal the door, and set off an EMP. Make sure they can’t get any coms out.” Grundan’s vitals were erratic, dangerous. The same inky-black was slowly overtaking his eyes. He threw the batarian over his shoulder like a sack and they raced for The Gozu District.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Grundan’s Krul’s character were a music video it’d be:  
> https://youtu.be/8AHCfZTRGiI?list=RD8AHCfZTRGiI
> 
> Written to 2Cellos – Hurt (on repeat)  
> Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ozNEdMcWZvQ


	48. The Contours of Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I forget, I accidentally published the last chapter with a few lines that were meant to be deleted. It doesn’t change much other than Garrus’s tone and was only present for half a day after publishing. But I thought I should mention it considering it was completely contrary to Garrus’s character. Sometimes things slip by when I proofread/fix up my drafts. Especially when I'm pulling all nighters with work.

Garrus and his men were squatting outside Mordin’s dilapidated hospital. They arrived less than twenty minutes earlier, with Krul’s life hanging by a thread. When they abruptly appeared, banging on the clinic doors, the salarian was shocked by the state of their comrade. Though it took him less than half a second to recover and begin shouting orders at his assistants.

Given how crowded the clinic was, his squad was loitering on the steps, unsure of what to do or where to go. The silence dragged on, and to be honest, the turian was at a loss for words. Something was gnawing at the back of his mind. And he couldn’t place a talon on it. No matter how many times he went over the day’s events, he couldn’t flush the idea out of darkness. He was missing something. He was certain of it. Yet, whatever lurked in the back of his mind refused to come forward.

An hour passed before Ripper finally broke the silence. “Not sure ‘bout the rest of yous but I needs a drink.”

Garrus pushed off the wall he’d come to lean against. “I couldn’t agree more. Drinks are on me, in case anyone was wondering. And, well, you two are invited.” He nodded to Mierin and Weaver.

The pair exchanged a look. And Garrus wasted no time in reassuring them. “I wouldn’t blame either of you if you decide to head back to The Citadel after this mess. But let me treat you as thanks for helping. It’s the least I can do.”

Weaver glanced at his younger counterpart. “I need to talk it over with my partner, but if he’s still in, so am I.”

“You didn’t know he was a separatist?” Mierin was regarding him carefully.

“No.” Garrus sighed.

“But you stood by him anyhow...”

“He earned my trust. And Thralog got what was coming to him. I complete my own research on every target. Although, I’m with Ripper. This conversation is in desperate need of alcohol.”

“Here’s to that.” Ripper spat, already on his feet. “Krul’s one of us. Don’t care no how what the bird government says.”

* * *

* * *

They chose a booth at the back of Afterlife. It was private, secluded, if a bit cramped. But the table was large enough to support their gaggle of drinks. It’s not like they were here for entertainment, merely some alcohol that didn’t taste like stale piss – an attribute other bars on Omega lacked. The somber group crunched into the booth and quickly placed their orders. When a scantily clad Asari dancer approached their table, Garrus quickly waved her off. A reaction that lead to Ripper’s clear disappointment.

After demolishing a couple pints, shared between the protein-compatible companions, Sensat gave voice to the elephant in the room. “Batarian Separatists are considered rogue terrorists. The Turian Hierarchy has scorched-earth policy on them. Supposed to be very nasty group. Much to discuss. Interesting development.”

“Salarians don’t beat around the bush, do they?” Weaver chuckled.

“Interested in mystery. Low alcohol tolerance. Dissolved inhibition.”

“My first concern is him surviving the pile of poison he dove into.” Garrus responded. “It’d be significantly easier to be upset with the man if he hadn’t just attempted suicide.”

Ripper, the only one who opted for hard liquor, had been delivered several bright, yellow shots. “Hey Sensat, they’s the same color as your markings.”

“Point being?”

“You need at least one. Put some hair on that chest.”

“Prefer to remain upright.”

“None of you’s are any fun.” Before Butler could offer to pick up the Salarian’s slack, Ripper turned to his eager eyes. “Nuh uh. I ain’t sharin’ with you’s. You get sick.”

“Aw, that was one time!”

“No way. You’s sitting across from me. I ain’t gettin’ a shower.”

Garrus gulped down the remainder of his pint, reached for the pitcher, and refilled his glass. As he brought the mug to his mouth, he froze. That inkling from earlier hit him like a crashing wave, with alcohol serving as the catalyst to his epiphany. After all, he’d been a couple shots deep the night he and Krul argued. The night Jane approached him. That’s what was bothering him, that conversation he completely dismissed.

_But I know him._

_He’d be missed. And not just by me._  
  
It was the way she had said it, the emphasis placed on those simple sentences. Jane hadn’t been talking about the past few months, nor his team. Had she? Given what she survived, one would think he’d stop underestimating the girl. Suddenly, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew Krul before The Ubralle. _Had she recognized him?_ Initially, he had written it off as caution. But over the past few months, there were a few times he caught her openly staring at the batarian. She’d immediately glance away, apologize, and blame it on the myriad of medications Mordin put her on. It seemed like a plausible excuse. But her face was practically stone in those unguarded moments. He meant to ask if the batarian made her uncomfortable and reassure her that she was safe. Yet, instinct stopped him when he noticed how that small frame relaxed in his presence. The tension seemed to melt away. And once her and Krul struck up a friendship, it slipped his mind entirely.

Then again, he was always conflicted with what to say or how to act around Jane. Her facial expressions were different from other humans as was her body language. And he struggled to discern if she was uncomfortable, scared, or couldn’t care less about his presence.

Glass cracked in his talons. “Crap.”

Butler, with his elbow practically shoved into Garrus’s side was the first to notice his commander’s sudden change in demeanor.

He shot the turian a puzzled look. “What? Mordin talkin’ in your ear? Krul dead or something?”

Every face snapped to his, their various drinks forgotten.

“What? No! I just… realized something… possibly. But it’s absolutely insane.” Garrus was still trying to wrap his mind around the concept.

“You’s not gonna keep it to youself now.” Ripper responded quickly. He was downing shots like there was no tomorrow, periodically fidgeting with the strange glass he’d taken to wearing around his neck. Despite being human, he had a fairly high alcohol tolerance. It rivaled Shepard’s.

“For once, punk, we agree.” Weaver plopped his mug down on the table, foam dripping from his mustache.

“Like I said, I’m not sure. But I think Jane was trying to tell me something the other night.” Garrus began.

“Who’s Jane?”

“Someone you’s not gonna meet til we have a talk pig.”

The budding animosity between Ripper and Weaver was something Garrus knew he’d have to keep an eye on. However that matter could be shelved for the moment. “She’s the younger sister of a good friend and an ex-slave we rescued a few months back. Right now, she doesn’t have anywhere to go. So, she’s staying at our base. And Ripper’s right. If you two want to become fully fledged members, we need to go over some ground rules about her. We’re no ordinary gang.”

“Hey now, we’re not like that.” Mierin spoke quickly, bringing the palms of his hands in front of his chest.

“If I had the slightest inkling you were, trust me, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Still, I run my place like a military operation. Expect harsh speeches, drills, and me whupping you into shape at a moment’s notice. Jane, on the other hand, is different. Our base is her only home. And unlike the rest of us, she didn’t choose to be on this shit-hole station. I expect everyone to be considerate of her. She’s still new to the galaxy and it’s a personal mission of mine to see her safe. We pulled that girl from hell itself. Anyone harasses her, and they’ll face far worse punishment than being kicked out.”

“Boss here likes to pussy foot ‘round. Me? I’m more direct. Anybody messes with her, I’ll introduce ‘em to the business end of ‘Ol Bessy.” Ripper patted his shotgun.

Butler chuckled while nodding in agreement.

“We’re here to put guys like that down.” Weaver met his gaze. “You have my word.”

“And mine.” Mierin assured him between gulps.

Garrus nodded to his new team members before continuing. “Anyhow, I’m probably wrong but it’s bugging me. Jane approached me a few nights ago when I was… well Krul and I had a disagreement.”

“A loud one.” Ripper snorted.

“Wait, what? I didn’t hear shit!” Butler whined.  
  
“Yeah. That’s cuz you snore like a god damn buzz saw. Probably can’t hear a fuckin’ bomb over that noise. It’s also why’s yous sleep in the corner bunk.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Whatever you two. Like I said, I’m not positive but I think Jane might have known him before we found her. It’s just … I don’t know. Now that I think about it, the whole conversation was strange. But she’s hard to read.” Garrus continued while mulling over the idea.

“That girl wastes no words.” Butler spoke up. “She’s probably said two sentences to me. One was to critique how I trained. The other was basically, just ‘hello.’”

“Oh? I never heard about this.”

The pudgy man shrugged. “Didn’t seem important. She told me to stop running on the treadmill until I lost another 20 lbs or I’d ruin my knees. Told her they went bad a decade ago. Then she handed me an entire dietary and exercise plan before disappearing back into her room without another word. Next day, there’s some weird muffins tagged with my name on the kitchen counter. Asked my wife about it, said it wasn’t her. And whatever grain it was, Nalah had never seen it before. Nice girl but a bit strange. The regimen is working though. I was stuck at 270 for months before trying it out.”

“I’ve only had one conversation with her. The rest of the crap we talk about has to do with guns and how to use or practice with them. I know she’s eager to start training but little else.”

“She plays Galaxy of Fantasy with me.” Ripper chimed in. The entire table turned to the ex-merc, shocked. “What? If she sleeps, I don’t know when. I’m up half the time playin’ cuz none of you losers will join me. Best group fights happen on Citadel time.”

“Only because you’re a sore loser.” Sensat chuckled.

“Whatever. Girl’s a fast learner, not too bad at healin, and way more fun to play with. Don’t faze her none when I yell at the TV, unlike you pussies. We brought down three legendary bosses last week. But she don’t talk much unless it’s about tactics. Only thing she asked me that had nothin’ to do with the game was how we met Krul.”

“Did you tell her?”  
  
“Yeah. Whole story. But she wanted every detail. Names of those who were beatin’ on him. Dates. Everything. Thought it was just cuz they’s friends.”

Garrus was drumming his talons against the table, deep in thought. “Spirits, how to ask her about this? Gently I guess. Normally, I’d have Krul talk to her … how ironic.”

“You know. Krul don’t treat her with kid gloves and she gets on fine with him. Don’t think she’s scared or bothered by us. Shy maybe.”

“That’s… a fair point.”

“Couldn’t hurt to ask boss. And I think you’s onto somethin. Didn’t think about it much, but she was hangin’ by his bunk one night. We’s was comin’ back late from that market job ‘fore she got that cast off. She was lots slower and louder then. Prolly the only reason I walked in on her. Anybody else, Idda asked why they's nosin’ around in Krul’s stuff. I wasn’t gonna say nothin, but she told me he owed her some shard wine and left.”

“While that’s odd, this whole notion is crazy right? I mean, Krul would’ve said something.”

“He is a separatist. The spirits only know what else he’s hiding.” Mierin interjected, his gaze fixed on the mug of Denoviroan Ale grasped in his talons.

Before Ripper could tear the turian’s head off, Garrus interrupted. “No. If it weren’t for Krul, we never would have found Jane. If they knew each other, why not mention it? And I’ve learned the hard way not to believe everything the government feeds me. I’m not sure about you, but I’ve certainly never had a conversation with a separatist. Like every soldier, I shot when told to shoot. Orders are orders and it’s not like I’m one to care about the political machinations behind them.”

That earned him a sharp look from his turian companion. “You know, I was in the military around the same time as you. We’ve both fought separatists. Weren’t their slaver rings preying on Volus colonies? That sounds pretty worthy of retaliation to me.”

“So we were told.”

“Maybe she knows him, but Krul didn’t recognize her.” Butler spoke softly. “I mean, what? How many hundreds of thousands of slaves are there on Kar’Shan? Remember the first time we met? He was bitching how slavery can’t be abolished easily. Sounded to me like he was arguing for it.”

“Wait, you’re not saying...”

“He could’ve owned her many years back. Fuckin’ batarian. Knew I couldn’t trust him.”

“C’mon Butler, he’s earned the benefit of the doubt. Besides, Jane is clearly comfortable around him.”

The man just huffed, crossed his arms, and leaned back. “Ever hear of Stockholm Syndrome? I’m telling you, no matter how cuddly batarians may seem, they don’t view us as equals. We’re lessers to them. I’ve lived with batarian neighbors my whole life, even the kids believe it. They teach ‘em young.”

“I’m not jumping to conclusions before I speak with her. For all we know, she’s simply curious and where she’s from it isn’t rude to rummage through other people’s belongings. Batarian culture isn’t something I pretend to understand. But we’re not going to figure this out sitting around here and it warrants attention.” Garrus waved down the waitress making her rounds. “Bill please.” With a swing of her omni-tool, the Asari brought up their bar tab. “You guys go on ahead. I’ll take care of this.” As his men began to inch out of the booth, Garrus nudged Mierin under the table.  
  
“I’m going to hang back if it’s okay. Finish off this pint.” Thankfully, the turian caught onto the fact he wanted to speak privately.

“It’s fine. Everyone else good with heading to the markets and buying some food to soak up that alcohol? I’d prefer to keep the rowdiness to a minimum tonight.”

Ripper was the only other squad mate who sussed out his true intentions “Sure thing boss. I’ll make sure these light weights get some grub.”

When his men had vacated the club, he turned to Mierin. “Before I give you the grand tour, I need to know if you’re still in this. We’ve both fought separatists. But unless something terrible is revealed tonight, there’s a good chance Krul is coming back to the base. Whether to simply recover or rejoin our squad remains to be seen. While I may not be thrilled with him at the moment, I need to know if you’ll be comfortable with this.”

“Figured you’d be more concerned about Butler.”

“Frank’s never fully trusted Krul, old prejudices can be hard to put down. It’s nothing I can’t handle. But we’ve both served in the military. Harboring this guy will be considered treason by The Hierarchy. Are you certain about this?”

“Not really. But, well, I trust your instincts. I doubt you remember me, I was just some rookie when you were in C-Sec. Weaver and I used to guard Pallin’s office. I remember how hard you railed on Saren. And look how that turned out. When you first started ranting about him, I’d have eaten my right boot before believing what you were saying.”

“And that’s enough for you?”

“You were also right about that massive red sand operation. Yet, wound up disciplined for killing the leader when arresting him would've endangered the lives of his workers.”

“C’mon man. We’re talking about treason here. My government, well, my trust in them has been waning over this year, while Krul has been working to gain it. And still, you saw me hesitate. We both know it. You’ve only been a part of this squad for a month. And I’m still not certain why you want to join up.”

“The plan on going after The Blood Pack remains in motion?”

“Definitely.”

“Then I’m in. And honestly, even if we’re caught….” Mierin trailed off, a quiver spread through his dark mandibles. “The only family I have left is Weaver. He’s gung-ho on this, and I’m not letting him go it alone. If we left, he’d just wind up back here in a few months. My only ask is that we do something about the ridiculous amount of weapons these Krogan vagabonds smuggle around the galaxy. They’ve caused enough pain.”

“Well, it’s certainly on the agenda.” With the bill paid, they began making their way towards the exit.

“Do you really think this girl knows him? That he was a slaver of sorts?”

“I think there are too many coincidences to ignore it. But no, I don’t believe he was some nasty piece of work collaring slaves out in The Traverse. Even if there’s a lot more to him than meets the eye.”

“Sounds like there’s more to Jane too.”

Garrus paused. “I know. And if I’m being completely honest, I’m kicking myself for writing her off that night. She doesn’t know the most basic things about the galaxy, and I … may have misjudged her. Well, we’ll know soon enough if there’s anything to this.”

“Guess so.”


	49. Demise of a Nation

Garrus wasn’t certain how to go about questioning Jane. While he didn’t want to come off as intimidating and scare the crap out of her, he needed to get to the bottom of this. If it were one of the guys, it’d be easy to ask if they had been hiding a fellow member’s secret identity. Hell, he’d barrel into the room demanding answers. But this was a different matter, delicate. And it didn’t help that the entire team was lurking in the living room, waiting for an explanation with baited breath.

Back at the bar, Ripper had a point. He’d been tip-toeing around Jane, so concerned with frightening her that it was preventing him from getting to know the person she was. It was also the reason he missed this connection between her and Krul entirely.

He stood at the threshold to Jane’s room, a single hand raised to knock. However, the next thing he knew the door flew open and she was standing there looking up at him expectantly.

“How did you….”

“You guys aren’t exactly quiet.”

“Right….”

Before he could utter another word, Jane blew past him, her eyes darting across the living area. He had to give her credit, she was bold. One would expect an injured, tiny woman who spent the past 14 years in captivity to be timid. Yet, she couldn’t care less about his large, towering presence or the group of armed men strewn about the living room. And she spared the bloodstains nothing more than a passing glance.  
  
“Who are they?” She spun back around to face him, thumb pointing in the direction of the base’s newest residents. “And where’s Krul?”

“Right. This is Weaver and Mierin. We’ve been working with them this past month. They helped with the raid.”

The two men awkwardly waved from their position on the sofa. Jane simply nodded in recognition.

“Krul’s target... That was today wasn’t it? Seriously, where is he?”

Now that he was hyper-aware of her every movement, trying to unravel the mystery, he started picking up on subtle cues. Her eyes narrowed, almost imperceptibly. She was on edge, more-so than he had seen since she came to live at the base.

“He’s alive.”

“Barely.” Ripper cut in from the couch.

“We got him to Mordin, but Ripper’s right, things are pretty grim. We’re not sure if he’ll make it.”

Garrus allowed her to absorb the information for a moment. If he didn’t know better, he’d guess that she was indifferent. That’s what was so odd about her – she didn’t react to things. Her every movement was careful, guarded.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” She turned to leave, as if she couldn’t reach solitude fast enough.

“We can talk in private if you prefer but Jane, there are things I need to ask you.”

She answered without the slightest hesitation, her voice dull. “That’s fine.”

When he arrived, she had already situated herself at the end of the bed, resting her elbow on one knee, the other bent under her in an incredibly unnatural looking position. “Just ask what you need to ask.”

“I have this inkling that you knew him before meeting us...” Garrus trailed off.

For awhile, she didn’t acknowledge the question. Her expression was hard, unreadable, maybe even a little cold. “I owe you everything. My life. Sciffy’s life. But this, I….” Her voice caught, filled with a shocking amount of emotion. That facade of cool indifference was cracking.

“I’ve done things that, never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined myself doing. By protecting him, and following through with his mission, I betrayed my own government. But you’d still be on The Ubralle if it weren’t for Krul. I owe him a lot.”

“No. I’d be dead. Yet, that seems more like my debt to pay.” She paused. “Those new guys, can I trust them?”

“I wouldn’t let anyone harm you. You know that right?”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. But I uhm appreciate you looking out for me.” The tiniest smile tugged at one side of her face. “Answer me this then, why does everyone hate the batarians?”

“You’re joking right? I’d expect you’d know better than anyone. You were enslaved by them for most of your life.”

“That was The Hegemony. Not the batarians. Do … do people really not know?”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about. So, I suppose not.”

She sighed. It was a heavy, weary sound. “This is such a different world than I imagined. Everything I thought I knew is…mutated, wrong. The universe I know is inside out. I’ll tell you the whole story. By the four, I’ll tell all of you if you promise to have some patience.”

“Patience?”

The hesitation returned for a moment. “I’m not used to other species’ languages yet.”

“Wait, is your translator glitching? Because, we can fix...”

“It’s not that.” A dismissive wave of the hand. “Batarian language is more expressive, particularly in the eyes. There are little clues to meaning that have no sound. And you have to pay attention or cause grave offense. Without…. It’s like talking with half the audio, I never know the meaning behind words these days. Well, except Krul. Even then... I’m not… it’s been awhile since I spoke at length with anyone. Chipped slaves aren’t exactly conversationalists.” She was staring at her hands as she fidgeted, rubbing her thumbs across one another.

“Jane, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. In fact, if you hadn’t just told me all that, I never would have noticed. You speak incredibly well – better than Ripper, that’s for sure. I didn’t expect that. Hell, I’m not sure what I expected when I found you. But certainly not a whole person. You’ve been a pleasant surprise.”

“I… wasn’t always on that ship.” She looked away. “Plus, I’ve been studying human vids. Guess it’s helping.”

“I think you give yourself too little credit. Trust me, you have nothing to worry about.”

“Maybe you’re right. Either way, Krul owes me a bottle of shard wine and I could use some liquid courage for this one.” Without another word, she abruptly moved towards the door. Each step silent, deliberate against the hard tile. Despite the brace, there was skill in that stride, training perhaps. Mierin was right. There was a lot more to Jane Shepard than met the eye.

* * *

At Jane’s request, Ripper had retreated behind the kitchen counter in search of alcohol. Garrus gave up on keeping the team dry. Dawn had crept in hours ago, yet they’d been awake all night. For them, it was an evening after a long, grueling mission and an emotional roller coaster. He was refraining from imbibing, however. Someone had to keep sharp. Plus, the hostages still needed to be dealt with. The mission wasn’t finished for him yet.

“I’s found… beer, beer, and more beer.” Ripper emerged, triumphant. “You know what they say. Liquor before beer and you’s in the clear.”

“No batarian shard wine?”

“You’s drink that swill?”

“It’s my favorite. Beer tastes like moldy, old shoes.” Jane wrinkled her nose as if the offending taste lingered too potently in memory.

Ripper ducked back into the cupboard and pulled out a dusty, old bottle. “Krul’s been hidin’ this. If he cares, wells, I’ll jus’ tell ‘em that’s what he get for scaring us to death.”

“He’ll make it.”

“You’s think so? Lost enough friends.” Ripper fidgeted with the glass necklace that hung around his neck. Ashes. That’s what was in the miniature jar – his friend’s ashes.

“That old bastard isn’t going anywhere. Trust me, he’s survived worse.”

“Alright, I have to ask, how old is he?” Garrus cut in.

“Older than any of us.”

“You know, that’s the exact same thing Krul told me when I asked.”

Jane loosed a soft, gentle laugh and took a long swig from her mug. Garrus watched as the skin on her cheeks flushed the same color as her hair, disappearing those odd reddish-brown spots that were scattered across her face. “Well, he’s been fighting longer than any of us have been alive. At least I think. How old are you Frank?”

“Wha? Oh. Uh fifty-four.”

“Yup. He’s way older than that, has to be.” Jane trailed off. “I don’t really know where to start. I do better at answering questions….” The entire team had settled in the living area. Despite her choice in professions, it was clear she didn’t enjoy being the center of attention. She shifted nervously. Every member had a drink in hand, but Jane was clinging to hers like a life raft.

“How about his real name?” Garrus offered.

“Ikalem Cod’gohal – The Man of Many Faces. But never use that name. Never. Not unless you want the entire Hegemony to squash you like a bug.”

“I know Separatists are hunted by The Hegemony and declared enemies to the stability of the batarian government but...”

Jane snorted derisively. “Good. The batarian people deserve better than them. Hope he bombed them back to the stone age on his way out.”

“I don’t get it.” Frank interjected. “Didn’t the batarians own you? Why the hell are ya defending them?”

“You know, the kids I grew up with were batarian, as is my best friend. They had nothing to do with what The Hegemony forced on me.”

“Okay, the kids I get. But didn’t their parents own you? Wasn’t that weird?”

She cocked her head and stared at Frank for a moment, before swiveling her eyes around the room as if she was searching each face for an answer. When she finally spoke, her voice was firm, determined. “No. The kids I grew up with were in the same boat as me. You think The Hegemony asked their parents nicely before dragging them off to biotic death camp? They were stolen from their families same as me. Same as all of us. People don’t even know the basics out here do they?”

With silence serving as her only answer, Jane reached for the wine bottle and refilled her mug. She quickly drained its contents and repeated the gesture. Garrus felt a pang of guilt. This was obviously difficult for her to talk about. Yet, at his request, she was preparing to lay the entire story bare. “Take as much time as you need.”

Her back was against the couch, opting to sit on the rug instead of the furniture. He watched as she sipped the wine, slowly rubbing her free hand into the carpet.

* * *

* * *

Part of her couldn’t believe she was even considering this. If she was wrong about them, about Garrus, she’d betray everything, _everyone_. But if Krul was here, he needed help. They all did. She shuddered. “Promise me this. All of you. Promise you won’t use this information against us.”

“Us? Wait were you part of ….”  
  
“No. But Krul’s mission is the only thing I ever believed in. I know you probably think I’m crazy but Kar’Shan and its people were home for me… for a very long time. And I care what happens to them.”

“I think we can agree to that.” She watched closely as Garrus turned his gaze to each team member – a silent ask.

These new guys hadn’t earned her trust. Yet, despite his lies about Jimmy, Garrus had. From the first day she laid eyes on him, there was a fascination, an implicit trust she placed in the turian that she couldn’t fully understand. Trust wasn’t something that came easily to her. _The steel predator_ _Jane thought with no small amount of affection_. She waited until the entire room nodded in ascent. Their expressions cautious, curious.

“In order to understand who Grundan Krul is, you first have to understand what it’s likes to live in The Hegemony. It seems the galaxy doesn’t even know who or what they are. You think the batarian’s free?” She glanced at Frank. “No. They’re exploited, beaten down, and kept in the dark. Most of the population doesn’t even realize it can be any other way. That it’s different in other places.” She swirled her drink round and swallowed, with each gulp heat crept into her cheeks. “There’s no extranet there. Schools are run by The Hegemony. You learn one way of thinking and one way only. It’s not like here – here I can go online and look up anything my imagination desires, somethings I didn’t even know existed. I’ve read about wars and entire alien cultures. I’ve explored cities with the touch of a finger. On Kar’Shan everything is monitored, filtered. Even books and movies are banned. I watched a comedy last week – that one with the lard ass who gets married and his family spends the entire time arguing. I knew a kid who was executed for watching that film.”

“Spirits.” Mierin looked as though he saw a ghost, mandibles clenched tightly to his face.

Paying no heed, Jane barreled forward, determined to paint a picture of the world she knew. “You can’t go anywhere in the cities without The Hegemony watching your every movement. The streets are lined with these poles. They have cameras at the top, and they’re not just to monitor slaves. Every batarian’s features are carefully logged by the government. It’s where Krul’s nick name comes from. Rumor has it he went through countless surgeries to change his face and remain off The Hegemony’s radar.”

“They don’t use DNA tracking?” Garrus interjected.

“I…. don’t know what that is. Ask him about it. Okanna knows I have no idea how he remained hidden. The only thing they really have is music, even then, a lot of bands are underground. Illegal, sure, but The Hegemony doesn’t usually go after them. They only really allow classical music. But television? Movies? Books? All forbidden on threat of death.”  
  
“This is crazy. Why doesn’t the population revolt? Surely they wouldn’t stand for it. And if billions rebel, no government can withstand it.”

“They do all the time. But if you’re caught, well, The Hegemony has strict laws of inheritance. Your sins are your children’s and their children’s sins. Working against them means endangering your entire family. And trust me, they’re not shy about butchering little babies either. That’s if you’re lucky. The rest are simply sent to the mines, they don’t hesitate to collar their own. Most just keep their head down and hold on to what they have. I’m not sure how many generations it takes to wipe the slate clean but it’s at least four. And even then, you’re stained. Dirty. There are lesser offenses of course. Like, if your great great grandfather flipped off the wrong general, you’ve probably lived your whole life in a slum.”

“This is….”

“Unbelievable.” Mierin finished.  
  
“Believe it.” Jane bit out. “I never knew a batarian who’d been off planet. Most don’t even know other intelligent life exists. And if they do, they keep to themselves.”

“Wait, aren’t there millions of slaves there?”

“Yeah but we’re not given translators and a lot are chipped. Their whole religion is centered around species with fewer than four eyes being animals. Most don’t know we’re intelligent. There are higher end slave owners and other parts of the country that seem to know we’re sapient but the majority of the population doesn’t have a clue.”

“You speak Rishini though right?” Garrus questioned. “Surely other slaves learn the language as well.”

“I’m not sure about the others. But I wasn’t treated like the average slave. They figured out I was biotic right away so I was sent to a military base. My bunk was in the same space as the other kids. You talk. You learn.” Jane snagged the wine bottle and peered through the top. “Damn I’m almost halfway through.”

After pouring another glass, she continued. Her eyes far away as if she weren’t speaking to anyone at all. “I wasn’t sure it was him at first. In fact, I thought I had just gone crazy. It’s been a long two years. But … what he said… _god is dead and we killed him_. I’ve read his work. That’s something he wrote – something he tried to do…”  
  
“Kill god?”

“Prove that their leader isn’t a god. The Hegemony is ruled by a single family, their line is thought to be descended from Okanna herself. The eldest son takes over as ruler when his father dies. Supposedly souls are shared or some shit. I don’t remember the whole thing but they’re believed to be living gods.”

“Wait, is he… he’s.. the leader of The Separatists. Of course he is.” Garrus groaned. “After today, I should’ve seen that coming.”

“I suppose you’d call him a philosopher. Reading his books were like opening my eyes for the first time… I… I’m not sure who I’d be if it weren’t for Krul. He lead a nation on nothing more than idea, recruited the dregs of society and sent them after The Hegemony. He armed their castoffs, encouraged the beaten. Drug addicts and prostitutes with nothing to lose flocked to his cause. The Hegemony robbed them of everything but their lives. And Krul gave them the tools to fight back. Thousands followed him, maybe tens of thousands. He’s been at it for at least sixty years. Their raids are legend back on Kar’Shan. Growing up, he was a ghost story. Something they’d tried to scare us with. But then… Then I learned better.”

She shuddered, the hand on the bottle was trembling violently. Another few gulps quelled the offending limb. “He never would’ve abandoned his people. Something terrible must’ve happened. My best friend joined The Resistance as did every kid I grew up with who was worth a damn. Since stumbling into Krul here… of all places...” She choked. “Not a day goes by where I don’t wonder what became of Balya or the rest of my friends.”

Garrus was quiet for awhile. Yet, despite not having much experience with turians, she could read the nervous shifting, that slight quiver in the mandibles. “Before he killed Thralog, he spoke of thousands dead.”

She cracked. The burning darkness that sat in her chest bubbled out, threatening to explode. A steadying breath. Weakness has no place, she shoved it down, swallowed it whole. “How many?”

“Close to six thousand.” She felt his clawed hand, surprisingly gentle, rest on her shoulder.

“P-p-please I have to see him.”

Garrus gave her shoulder a tender squeeze before pulling up his omni-tool. “We can check in with Mordin. It’s been what? Six hours? Maybe he has news.”


	50. Sleeping at Last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are several quotes from songs and philosophers intermingled with my own writing. They’re underlined with citations at the bottom. I do not own those words, I was merely inspired by them.
> 
> Also thank you for all the kudos and whatnot! It’s always a treat to login and see. :p

Years later, as the reapers laid waste to Palaven, Garrus would think back to this day in search of comfort. The turian military was scattered, desperately trying to hold the line. Victus had ordered him to the opposite side of Menae. A heavy reaper unit had deployed and their troops were being overwhelmed. While the trek across the moon was perilous, the view was breathtaking in its destruction. Merely a few days prior, that blaze of orange had been home. Palaven was burning. Even from this distance, the fires’ rapid progression across the globe could be seen in awe-inspiring detail.

The cries of the wounded and the chirping of terrified soldiers followed his every step. He’d lost people on a daily basis – usually to hostile fire but there was always one or two who’d perish, dumbfounded by the reaper’s cruelty. They’d see a friend in the cross hairs, horrifically altered, shambling towards them. And they’d hesitate. It was the only opening the creatures needed. The worst part about it was that many of them were kids, merely a year into boot camp. They didn’t stand a chance. But the situation was desperate. And for the first time in history, The Hierarchy issued a draft for all those sixteen and over.

When things were looking grim, with death around every corner, he’d remind himself of the this day. His first glimpse at the incredible woman Jane would become. With millions dead and communications cut off, hope was in short supply. It was all he had. Memories of loved ones was all any of them had.

_'I’m stronger than I look Garrus.' She grinned and ran a hand through her uneven, jagged hair. It was still growing back and stuck out at odd angles._

_Spirits, if you even exist, please let her be alive. Don’t make me go it alone._

Screams echoed across the rocky terrain. Reaper forces had infiltrated a cave with alarming force. The hand over his heart fell to his side and Garrus reached for his rifle to continue the march.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Upon receiving the news that Krul remained unconscious and in critical condition, his men retired to their bunks. Garrus sat in the darkened living room, side by side with a slumbering Jane. After polishing off the remaining wine, and regaling him with several quotes from her favorite ‘Krul passages’ she fell into an uneasy sleep.

Frightened at the prospect of losing the words, she’d written down some of her favorite pieces. And once they were alone, she shared her pocket-sized treasure with him. The little notebook sat on the coffee table. He cracked it open and ran his talons across the pages.

Our strategy should be not only to confront empire, but to lay siege to it. To deprive it of oxygen. To shame it. To mock it. With our art, our music, our literature, our stubbornness, our joy, our brilliance, our sheer relentlessness – and our ability to tell our own stories. Stories that are different from the ones we’re being brainwashed to believe. (1)

Apparently, Jane memorized portions of every banned book she managed to get her hands on. And the moment she was safe, she wrote out entire passages word for word, terrified she’d forget the knowledge they’d bestowed on her. And now he was reading the leader of the batarian separatist's ideas. His hopes. His dreams for an entire people.

He turned the page.

* * *

In individuals, insanity is rare; but in groups, parties, nations and epochs, it is the rule. (2) Are we to do nothing in the face of this absurdity? Are we to forever lie low while they steal our children from our breast? Their madness must end. We must think for ourselves, lest we will never be free.

The surest way to dissolve a society is by abolishing knowledge. And that is precisely what The Hegemony did to us. They stole our history. They burned our libraries. They ransacked our very minds, cowed us with ignorance. We are a shadow of the nation we once were – our potential wasted. We are a people betrayed. For thousands of years we have strained under the yoke of The Hegemony. No more! We will not fade quietly into the night. We will fight. We will resist to the last.

When you come to me cold, broken, and alone – your last son butchered at the hands of our enemies, you may ask was it worth it? Should I not guard what is mine? Keep it close to my heart? When you rip my soul out, what have I left to fight for?  
  
I ask you this: who was your child in their cruel hands? Were they whole? Or were they merely a cog in the corrupt machine of The Hegemony, drowning in the blood of their own?

What is life without liberty?

We are naught but shattered souls in their shadow.

* * *

Garrus had no idea that the boorish man he’d come to know could write so eloquently. Then again, after everything he’d learned about batarian language, perhaps there was a reason for their crude way of speaking. If the slightest disparity in body language was the difference between an insult and a compliment, their harsh reactions would be far more understandable.

The following entries transformed from philosophical quotes to Jane’s personal thoughts, songs she was composing, and various drawings. Perhaps it was wrong to continue on, yet she’d given him this little journal. Why else would she do that if not to share the entire thing?

* * *

Apparently, I’m somewhere called Omega. Everything is cold, artificial. How do people stand it? I miss the feel of soil between my toes. The smell of dewy leaves. Real air. How the ground would steam in winter after a heavy rain. Here, you can’t even see the stars.

[Drawing of constellations viewed from Kar’Shan.]

[Sketch] Strange mounds that looked like small hills and scattered cliffs with doors built into the rock

* * *

Couldn’t sleep again. Keep thinking I’m back on that ship. I feel the slight vertigo in my dreams, the jagged, metal floor I slept on. Krapo’s face. The chains may be broken. But what is freedom if your mind remains shackled?

At least my song is coming along. I finished the lyrics, now I just need to wrap the notes around them. I still haven’t picked a title. Something that reminds me of Jimmy, perhaps. It’s about him after all. I have so many questions, like who was this soldier he became? What happened to him after Mindoir? The nerdy farm boy I knew was nothing like the man all these vids describe. Even Garrus talks about someone alien to who I remember.

Guess The Alliance cured his asthma along with all the genetic enhancements. If he were standing right in front of me, would I only see a stranger?

You taught me the courage of stars before you left  
𝄞 ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬♬ ♫ ♩♩♩  
How light carries on endlessly even after death  
𝄞 ♩♩♩ ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬♬ ♫ ♩♩♩  
With shortness of breath, you explained the infinite  
𝄞 ♬♬ ♫ ♩♩♩ ♩♩ ♩ ♪ ♫  
How rare and beautiful it is to even exist  
𝄞 ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬♬ ♫ ♩♩♩  
I couldn't help but ask  
𝄞 ♩♩♩ ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬♬ ♫ ♩♩♩  
For you to say it all again  
𝄞 ♫ ♫ ♩ ♪♬♬ ♫ ♩♩♩  
I tried to write it down  
𝄞 ♩ ♪♬♫ ♩♩♩ ♪  
But I could never find a pen  
𝄞 ♩♩♩ ♪♩ ♪♬♫   
I'd give anything to hear  
𝄞 ♪♬♫ ♩♩♩ ♪♩ ♪♬♫   
You say it one more time  
𝄞 ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬♬ ♫ ♩ ♪♪  
That the universe was made  
𝄞 ♬♬ ♫  
Just to be seen by my eyes (3)

[Sketch] Adolescent human male looking through telescope  
Label: Jimmy geeking out

[Sketch] Cornfields with stars and twin moons hovering above the atmosphere

Is that how it looked? My memory isn’t clear anymore. I tried omni-searching Mindoir. Apparently, I’m listed among the dead. At first, I thought it was gruesome. Now I kind of like the idea of being able to fly under the radar, no one knowing where I’m from. Maybe like a secret agent? A secret agent of what? Nothing? Boredom maybe.

* * *

Garrus told me about Sciffy’s rescue. She’s alive! Talk about miracles. Part of me still can’t believe it. Maybe now I’ll be able to sleep, unhaunted by little hands with big dreams.

[Sketch] Young girl with dark hair and eyes smiling a semi-toothless grin  
Label: Alice Hammond

* * *

Recording Equipment settings:  
Power Required/Consumption: 5V 150mA  
Sample Rate: 48 kHz  
Bit Rate: 16-bit

Audiobook 1 Tracks:

<Original Song – Unknown Title>

Secret Garden

Adagio in D

Allegro in C

* * *

Jane shifted in her sleep, shivering. Garrus snagged one of the throw blankets and draped it over her before closing the notebook. This was something she brought out to grant him a better understanding of Krul, not to share her most intimate thoughts and dreams – regardless of how intriguing it was to read.

The revelation that Shepard had been a nerdy child with asthma was certainly amusing. Sure, The Alliance had cures for such ailments, provided one could afford it. But the man had always come off as a jar-head, blowing his way through issues with a shotgun and an irate attitude.

He wasn’t sure who he expected to find on that ship – a person this full of life was certainly not one of them. She deserved better than this shit-hole station. If Shepard were alive, Jane would be free to live wherever her heart desired. But there wasn’t anything he could do about that now.

Despite the dire picture of life on Kar’Shan that she painted, he found himself grateful to have the opportunity to get to know her. While he considered himself to be a good judge of character, Jane proved him wrong at every turn. It was difficult to connect the childish person he thought she was merely a few days ago with the young woman sleeping on the couch behind him. Tonight he learned that there was more to intelligence than the everyday knowledge he took for granted.

After his men had retreated for some much needed rest, only him and Jane remained. They continued talking for awhile, burning time, hoping for news. He sat back, running their conversation through his mind.

“I used to be a soldier in The Hierarchy you know. Batarian Separatists were the enemy – we – I – killed so many. Now, I’m wondering who those people were, what their mission truly was. And why my people decided they needed to be wiped off the map.”

“So have I…. I spent most of my life killing Resistance fighters. Try not to dwell on it. Trust me, it doesn’t lead anywhere good.”

“Wait. I thought you’d never even used a gun before. No offense but I’ve seen you shoot. Pretty sure you haven’t hit a single target on the range. I’d apologize for spying, but, well, I tend to keep track of all firearms on the base.”

“I knew you were there.” Jane responded, a small laugh escaping. “But anyhow, you fight like no one I’ve ever seen. And I never pass up the opportunity to learn. Sure I haven’t used guns before but that military base I was brought to…. It was half lab, half army with a sprinkle of one fucked up boarding school. They used it to create powerful biotics in service to The Hegemony. Us kids would be set against against captured POWs, pit fighting mostly. Fill someone with enough drugs and slap a shock collar on them and you can get a person to do just about anything.”

“Spirits. That’s …… I mean I heard their biotic commando training was harsh but that’s insane. How did you survive? The fighters I encountered were deadly. And you were just a kid...”

“They weren’t at their best, crazed and half starved as they were. But you also haven’t seen me use biotics. And besides, no one knows what they’re truly capable of – not until their back’s against the wall and it’s kill or be killed. I’m stronger than I look Garrus.”

“I’m getting that feeling. Say can I ask you something about that base you were in?”

“Shoot.”  
  
Garrus chuckled. “Picking up on our speech already? Anyhow, I simply can’t see how The Hegemony expected you kids to join them after they put you through what sounds like torture.”

“I get it.” A pause. “You join up, do well, and they erase your problems. Your family will be taken care of, your belly full. It’s the good life versus fighting for survival day in and day out.”

“You were never tempted?”

Jane looked at him as if he’d grown a second head. “You think they let humans join? I was just an experiment to them. I guess if you want to split molecules, that was the biggest difference between me and the other kids. If they survived, they could have a future in The Hegemony. Didn’t matter to me though. Even if I could’ve had a place in their ranks, I wouldn’t want to sell my soul. Some lines you just don’t cross.”

A comfortable silence ensued for awhile. When she spoke again her eyes were drooping, words slightly slurred. “When this inhib-ihibi fuck. Inhibitor is out can I join your squad?”

“Seriously?”  
  
“You kill sslavers. Sounds fun.”

“I still haven’t seen you in action yet. I didn’t go through all that trouble just to get you killed….” She’d dozed off, before he had the chance to finish. Possibly before he’d responded at all.

Now, alone with his thoughts, he reached a decision. Gathering up his gun along with a few grenades, he left for the casino. Maybe Krul would survive his injuries. Maybe he wouldn’t. But he’d finish the batarian’s mission. There were hostages to deal with, or, as Grundan had so articulately put it, Hegemony Curs. And something told him they had it coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Citations:  
> (1) Arundhati Roy  
> (2) Friedrich Nietzsche  
> (3) Sleeping At Last – Saturn


	51. What Could Have Been

> “The same peaks of evolution, the same valleys of dissolution… The same conflicts are expressed in every cycle, but in a different manner.”
> 
> \- Vendetta (Prothean VI on Thessia.)

* * *

The casino was quiet, lifeless. With the hostages secured in the upper room, the vast chamber seemed almost peaceful despite the corpses and long-congealed blood. Garrus busied himself with a bit of scavenging. Their little venture on Omega wasn’t without its costs. And they could always use better gear and more guns.

With a heavy sack of credit chits and salvaged circuit boards slung over his shoulder Garrus made his way to the upper level and the hostages. He didn’t even bother questioning them, merely opened the door, lobbed in a handful of their red-sand grenades, and let them choke on their own poison. Poetic justice.

His omni-tool began buzzing at his wrist. The moment he answered, Mordin’s face filled the screen.

“Archangel! Good news. Squad-mate awake. Still needs inpatient care, serious condition, but positive sign.”

“He up for visitors?”

“Yes. Yes. Asked for you.” The salarian’s hands flew up, miming air quotes. “Said to ‘call the dumb kid down here so I can give him a piece of my mind.’”

“Of course he did.”

“Expect soon yes? Patient agitated. Unhappy. Saved life. Flipped me off. Bit of a cloaca. Reminds me of a certain turian.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I’ll be there.”

Garrus ended the call and made his way to the Gozu district, the gasping sounds of dying men not bothering him in the least.

* * *

Nalah was the one who greeted him when he arrived at the clinic. Her hair was pinned in a sloppy bun that was clearly frayed from the morning’s events. Strands escaped every which-way falling across tired eyes.

“What the hell happened? Mordin called me at the crack of dawn for an extra set of hands. I had no idea it was Krul until I was running like a chicken with my head cut off in our make-shift trauma ward.”

“He took a dive into some red-sand after the mission, I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.”

“Oh god. I mean, we knew the red-sand part but not the fact it was intentional.” Nalah lead him through the darkened hallways to a solitary room at the end of the corridor. “He’s lucky things slowed down around here. If this had been a week ago, during that little vorcha uprising, we wouldn’t have had the manpower.” She motioned towards the door. “Have fun. He’s in a joyful mood.”

The door opened with a hiss, revealing a small room laden with whirring and beeping machines. Krul’s voice immediately cut across the landscape – as harsh and guttural as ever. “Fucking idiot. Why’d ya save me?”

“Well pardon me not wanting you to die and all. Really, I should be ashamed of myself.”

As Nalah turned to leave, Garrus could hear the woman attempting to stifle her amusement.

“Oh you fuckwad. Have any idea what you did?” Krul was propped against several pillows, yet it seemed merely sitting was difficult for the man. His arm trembled as he pushed against the mattress, trying to keep himself upright. “If The Hierarchy finds out, best case scenario, you’ll never be able to return to Turian Space. Worst case, well, I hope you realize your people still have the death penalty. You are an **idiot**.”

Garrus pulled up a stark, metal chair and settled next to Krul’s hospital bed. “That’s a chance I’m willing to take.” _Not like it’ll matter soon anyhow. Reapers. Galactic annihilation. The doom of_ _all_ _advanced_ _organic life_ _._

“And people call me crazy.”

“Is it safe to talk here?”

Krul’s face was completely bandaged aside from a singular, red-rimmed eye. It narrowed, glaring at him for a moment. If he didn’t know better, he would think the batarian was plotting to blow his head off. “No.”

“Can we do something about that?” Garrus rummaged through a bag marked ‘patient belongings’ and handed Krul his omni-tool.

The batarian fiddled for a few moments before tossing it back to him. “Can’t fuckin’ see shit.”  
  
“How about you just tell me what to do and we’ll go from there?”

There was some fumbling and a hefty amount of cursing on Krul’s part but they eventually had the anti-listening device engaged.

“It’s done. So, whatever’s about to come out of your fool mouth won’t be overheard.”

Garrus went straight to business. “I killed the hostages.”

That snagged his attention. A solitary, black eye swiveled to meet his gaze. Gaping. “You… what?”

“Jane.” Garrus began. “She explained who you are, what you started back on Kar’Shan. You have quite the fan in her by the way. You’re the ‘Man of Many Faces, aren’t you? The leader of The Separatists.”

“The fuck do you care? And if she told you all that why haven’t you killed me yet?"

“What The Hegemony is doing to your people… it’s unimaginable. Why wouldn’t I care?”

Silence was his only response. Garrus let it be for awhile. Choosing to scroll through the galactic news on his omni-tool. After everything Jane revealed about The Hegemony, he couldn’t blame the man for his lack of trust. Yet, after thirty minutes, it became apparent Grundan had no intention of breaking the silence.

“You can trust me Krul. I know our species don’t get on well, but I won’t betray you. Is… is there anything I can do to help? Could we transport you somewhere? Help you restart?”

“The fuck you on about?”

“What happened to The Resistance had to be a blow but you could start over. Try again. I’ll even help you get on your feet.”

Krul snorted. “You are one strange turian.”

“I get that a lot.”

“It’s not over.” His voice low, deadly. “They wiped out our main base – the one on Kar’Shan but not The Resistance in its entirety.” A five fingered hand gripped the bed-rail. Silver glistened against bone-white knuckles. “We will rise again. We will return and lay waste to their empire. You’ll see.”

“I take it you have plans then.”

“Me? No. I’m a tired old man. That somersault move blew out my knee. Back in the day, I could do countless maneuvers like that and barely break a sweat. Even before that bastard shot me, it was the last time I’d be able to pull that off. My fighting days are over. The whole shebang was supposed to be my last mission, ‘til you ruined it.”

“What can I say? I’m a people person. Besides, what would I do without your innate charm bringing cheer to us all?”

Nalah entered the room with a syringe and a fresh IV bag. “Bout time woman.” Krul grumbled.

“Your pain meds are finally due, as is your potassium infusion. And that button you keep pressing calls me. It doesn’t administer extra morphine on demand.”

“That’s a crying shame.”

After Nalah left, Garrus allowed the morphine settle for a few minutes before continuing. The batarian relaxed immeasurably after the injection, taught muscles submitting to the soft mattress.

“Krul, I … tell me you didn’t try and off yourself just to save me from The Hierarchy’s wrath. Honestly, a move like that doesn’t seem like you but after the last 24 hours, well, I’m ready to believe just about anything.”

“You’re not that special.” Krul, having returned to lying flat on his back, waved a hand dismissively above his head. “That was supposed to be a good death for a worn, old man. Look, thank you for takin’ care of those assholes but I really don’t know why you’re bothering with all this.”

“C’mon, you’re stuck in that bed and chock full of drugs. How bad can talking with me be?”

“Whatever. Ask your questions.”

“Did The Hegemony change or was it always this way? What happened?”

“Know your human history?”

“Of course. After the First Contact War, humanity became a well-taught subject.”

“We lost a war a couple millennia back similar to the one humanity waged against each other during World War II. The details were lost over time. Hell, I’m still not clear on whether we balked at dropping a nuke on our own planet or simply didn’t take the enemy seriously. Either way, the wrong side won. The Hegemony started out as a rogue terrorist cell though, I know that much.”

“Right. Humanity is one of the few sapient species that used nuclear weapons against their own. The only other one I know of is the krogan. It's one of the reasons the galactic community considers them violent upstarts.”

“Well, they made the right call. When The Hegemony won, they butchered millions for the sake of ‘purifying’ our race. Then they burned libraries, destroyed tech. Basically, they obliterated our civilization and built The Hegemony from the ground up. Eventually those who remembered what we once were died out. And then we were completely at their mercy.”

“Spirits.”

“The surest way to destroy a society is to eradicate knowledge. With our history in tatters, The Hegemony leader declared himself a god and we had no way of opposing his viewpoint. You can’t fight propaganda without insight. Our children are educated by The Hegemony. They know nothing else.”

“But you found a way to fight them.”

Krul snorted. “When I started, I had no idea what I was doing. I simply had to make a change. Being a Hegemony grunt was… well, it wasn’t for me. I trained in spec ops. But life in the military filled me with nothing but hate. I get being young and angry. I get following orders. Yet these soldiers are out in the real world. You can’t keep denying what’s in front of all four of your fucking eyes forever. At some point you, and you alone, are responsible for the weight of your actions. I’ll never get over how fucking apathetic people can be. No one cares. The Hegemony gave them a life of luxury. And to most, that’s worth any price.”

“So rebellion isn’t that common?”

“Keep people on the brink of survival and making it to the next day is all they have the time and energy for. Then give your soldiers a taste of the good life, move their families out of the slums. It breeds a fierce loyalty born of fear. They don’t want to lose what they have. I don’t respect it, but I can understand their motivations.”

“If there are members still alive, you could find them… you...”

“No.” Krul interrupted. “No. Contacting them would endanger everyone. They’re hidden. They need to remain that way until they regather strength. Besides, I’m more useful to my people as a martyr. Now that I’m dead, they’ll fight with renewed purpose and a viciousness born of vengeance. It’ll take nothing less to defeat The Hegemony.”

“Uh. Krul, I hate to point this out but you’re still kickin’.”

“They don’t know that. The Hegemony never acknowledges failure. I’m sure they paraded my demise around before concocting that ridiculous traitor story and identity to boot. Assholes set every bounty hunter in The Terminus on my trail.”

“So I take it that whole story about you murdering a high ranking official was crap?”

“Think I killed a few hundred generals. Hell if I remember. You lose count. But sure, let’s focus on the only one I didn’t end.”

Garrus chuckled. “By the way, should I start calling you Ikalem?”

The batarian’s head whipped around to face him, his voice a low hiss. “Are you mad?! Never use that name. Besides, it isn’t my first or last one, only the best known. I had as many names as faces. And I rather like my new one. Short. Easy to remember.”

“For you or me?”  
  
“Both.”

Exhausted from the effort of talking, Krul drifted into a deep slumber alarmingly fast. His breath came in even, raspy gasps. With nothing else on the agenda, Garrus settled in for the long haul. He didn’t want to leave Krul alone after the man tried going out in a blaze of glory merely half a day earlier. And with so many questions burning at the back of his brain, he didn’t mind waiting for the answers.

Daniel and Nalah took turns flitting in and out of the make-shift ICU, changing IVs and administering medication. After waking the batarian for a blood draw, Krul seemed less disconcerted, calmer. Garrus took the opportunity to pursue the questions that were dogging him.

“So, care to tell me why The Hierarchy is after your people?”

“That hard ass Victus. He’s got a stick wedged so far up his ass I’m surprised it isn’t popping out his fringe.” Grundan answered between sips of water.

“Woah, what? You knew General Victus?”

“Some of my guys, well, let’s just say a couple millennia of tradition isn’t easy to break. Those morons went against orders and tried grabbing some slaves off a turian protected colony.”

“That’s… yeah that couldn’t have ended well.”

“Tell me about it. I returned them all, unharmed I might add. But turians aren’t exactly… understanding. They’ve been trying to blow us to smithereens ever since.”

“Where’s the connection to Victus?” Garrus was admittedly excited, having followed the decorated general’s career in primary school.

“He caught us. Tough bastard. Had to fight him myself, an enemy worthy of respect that’s for sure. Anyhow, The Hierarchy declared us terrorists and the rest is history.”

“So it’s all just a misunderstanding?”

“I dunno if I’d say that.” A pause. “Victus tried negotiating – he wanted us out of turian controlled space, even gave us a chance to retreat. Strategically, I couldn’t do that. With The Hegemony on our heels, I needed to run supplies through The Apien Crest. We got into a nasty argument that ended with me asking him to kindly climb out of my ass.”

“Oh boy.”

“Yeah. No sense of humor that one. I didn’t lose many to the turians anyhow. Woulda lost a lot more if we withdrew though.”

“You know, during my military days, I was part of a major Separatist raid. There must’ve been at least fifty guys in that base….”

“Uh huh.”

“Not only do I personally know of other raids, but that base alone doesn’t seem like ‘a few men.’ How many of you are there?”  
  
“More than you realize.” A sly smile crept across his face, edging against the bandages. Having finished his water, Krul gagged. Moments later he was bent over the side of the bed, vomiting into a bucket. Nalah was quick to respond. She rushed into the room, and soothed him while injecting a yellow substance into his IV. Within minutes, he was fast asleep.

“That worked…. Quickly.” Garrus noted.

“Phenegran. It’s a potent anti-emetic and a sedative. Are you planning to stay? There will be a shift-change in a few hours and things will calm down. Until then, I have a lot of patients and I’m not sure he should be alone.

“Yeah I can hang around.”

Nalah patted him on the shoulder before rushing out, her omni-tool buzzing incessantly.

When Krul woke, he was stunned at the sight of Garrus at his bedside, scrolling through the galactic news on his omni-tool. “You’re still here?”

“I don’t have much else to do. And if I head back to base and fall asleep now, my schedule will be all screwed up. Might as well keep your ugly mug company.”

“Say, got any music?”

“Sure. There’s some Expel 10, Grunge, and Techno on my omni-tool.”

“Ugh.” Krul scoffed. “That’s noise. You really listen to that shit? I’m talking about real music. Like…. Say, did Jane ever finish her audiobook?”

“I’m not sure. I could ask her. I sent a message back to base letting everyone know you’re awake. She’s already written me three times asking for an escort to the clinic. I guess the guys are all too hungover and still in bed. And what’s wrong with my music anyhow? They have a good beat. Strong. Balanced.”

“You’d have to be deaf to prefer that trash over the stuff Jane plays. It’s not merely the melody. It’s the soul, the emotion she puts into every cord. That’s some life altering music right there.”

“Don’t get me wrong, her music is pretty. But I’m not sure I’d call it, or any music for that matter, ‘life altering.’”

Krul was quiet for awhile. “You’re… young aren’t you?”

“What? Not really.”

“C’mon Garrus, I can never tell age with turians. No skin, just plates and whatever the fuck that stuff is in-between. It’s disorienting.”

“I’m 25, soon to be 26, if you must know. And ‘that stuff in-between’ is called hide.”

“You sure don’t fight like a baby. Raised on Palaven I bet, strong family background.”

“Did.. did you just call me a baby? Anyway, we were your average, middle-class family. Nothing special. My father worked on the Citadel though. The man was rarely around.”

“Uh huh.”  
  
“What are you getting at Krul?”

“You simply don’t have the life experience to appreciate it is all. Some music aims for your heart, brings you low before sending you to the heavens. You have to know that soul-crushing depth in order to truly hear it.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Pray it never does boy.”

This time when Krul drifted off Garrus felt his own eyes, heavy with exhaustion begin to droop. He waited another twenty minutes until the shift change was complete then gathered up his things, made a mental note to bring Jane along with a collection of music on his next trip, and headed home.


	52. Live and Let Die

“She’s not going to give it up Garrus. You’ll have to tell her the whole story one of these days.” Nalah had been on him like a vorcha on fresh meat to have a talk with Jane. With Krul still hospitalized, Garrus allowed his squad a spot of leave to recharge. While basic drills and a three mile run remained a daily requirement, the men were free to do as they pleased afterwards. It left him with a plethora of downtime. And the woman was pressing her advantage.

“The minute I do, assuming she even believes me, she’ll be crushed.”

“Her brother is dead. She’s already crushed.”

“She wants to avenge him.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t.”  
  
“His enemies were taller than skyscrapers – I don’t have the resources for that. And the rest is classified.”

“I understand why you haven’t shared it with the entire team. But this is her brother we’re talking about, the last member of her family.” Nalah stood toe to toe with him, arms crossed, shooting a glare that nearly made him wither like a fledgling. They may be aliens, having evolved worlds apart, but every inch of that woman screamed ‘stern mother.’ Somethings translated across species without the need for a VI assistant.

“She needs to learn how to defend herself. Everyone should know how to use a gun. A point I’ve made to you on numerous occasions I might add. I was hoping she’d get some basic training under her belt before I tell her this whole notion of vengeance is pointless.”

“Just tell her the truth Garrus, whatever it is. What she does with it is up to her. Besides, she won’t rest until she knows the whole story. That girl is relentless.”

Garrus snorted. “I’ve noticed. It’s a quality she shares with her brother.”

“If you continue avoiding the topic, you’ll lose her trust.”

“That will happen the moment I tell her the truth. It’s pretty crazy.”

“The truth is what it is. There’s nothing you can do to change it. But you can offer her some peace.”

“I doubt that. It’s nightmare fuel.”

“Something tells me that girl lives day in and day out with such things. But she’s not one to give up on anything. I highly doubt she’ll suddenly lose interest in weapons training regardless of what you tell her. And I have the sneaking suspicion you already know that.”

“I suppose.” Garrus sighed.

“You are her only connection to her brother, you’re lying to her, and she knows it. Now think about that from her point of view. The fact she still trusts you at all speaks volumes. She thinks the world of you Garrus, don’t squander that.”

“I… see your point.”

“You’ll tell her then?”

“Yeah. Just need to… organize some thoughts.”

* * *

* * *

* * *

He knew Nalah was correct. And the dark circles under Jane’s eyes hadn’t escaped him. According to the older woman, she was pulling all nighters, one after the other, trying to suss out what happened to Shepard. Although, that fact didn't make him eager to share the tale in the slightest. _Might as well get this over with._ Garrus sighed and rapped gently on her door. Jane was always so quiet, even with his superior turian hearing he couldn’t be certain she was awake.  
  
Half a breath later she answered. “Come in Garrus.”  
  
“How’d you know it was me?”

“The pattern when you walk is different.” She was sitting atop both feet, knees bent into the floor, polishing that odd shotgun of Krul’s. The silver plating against the wooden handle shone, all traces of rust painstakingly removed.

“Right. Well, Nalah tells me you’ve been researching more about your brother. That you’re looking for whomever killed him.”

“Yep.”

“I don’t know how to tell you this so I’m just going to say it. This quest of vengeance your on, it’s not possible.”

“I know.”

“That… that was not the answer I was expecting.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not used to trusting people.” She paused, laying the weapon down on her desk. “If half the stuff I’ve read about him is true, then whomever killed Jimmy is out of my league. And unless I’m wrong about you, which I doubt, they’re out of yours too. Otherwise, those assholes would be dead already.”

Garrus stood in shocked silence for a few minutes. It was easy to forget how clever she was, of course she’d put a few pieces together on her own. He really shouldn’t be surprised. “Then why did you ask me to train you? Not that I’m objecting to it. I meant it when I said you should learn how to defend yourself. And yes, yes, I know you can use biotics. But I’m talking about guns, weapons training. It’s a necessity in this galaxy.”

“I didn’t come this far just to die.”  
  
“Why do you think you’re about to die? Did someone threaten you? What...”  
  
She quickly interrupted his train of thought. “No. But I know there’s a threat out there. And I want a chance to survive when they come for me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“That’s why you’re hiding me isn’t it? Whomever killed Jimmy will come for me too. They simply don’t know where I am. And maybe I won’t be able to beat them. But at the very least, I’d like a fighting chance to escape or something. Anything. Hell if I know. You won’t even tell me who they are! How am I supposed to prepare for that?” Her eyes narrowed. Angry. It was a look he was unaccustomed to seeing on her face.

“Jane….”

“Well? Are you? Will you finally just tell me who they are? Was he betrayed by a friend? Someone he never saw it coming from? Did The Hegemony put out a hit on him? I read about Torfan….”

“You’ll never believe it.”

“I won’t if you never tell me.”

Garrus strode over and sat down at the end of the bed with a heavy sigh. “If you insist, I’ll tell you the whole blasted story. But we’re going to be here for awhile. Better get comfortable.”

So he laid the whole thing out. Every element. The race from Feros to Ilos. The rachni queen dissolving in acid. Discovering Saren was indoctrinated. He didn’t spare a single detail, not even the heartbreaking decision to leave Ash behind. And as time went on, the deeper he delved into the story, the more he realized what a respite it was to talk about. The reapers were a constant menace at the back of his mind. Ever present. Ceaselessly reminding him that time was short. He found himself relieved to share the burden.  
  
Jane sat in an incredibly uncomfortable looking monkey pose. Patiently listening. Absorbing every detail. As he spoke, he could see the cogs turning. She wasn’t laughing or calling him insane. Instead, she worked through the plethora of information he threw at her, chewing her lip deep in thought. Finally, after hours, he detailed the attack. Arriving on Alchera. Discovering Shepard hadn’t made it off The Normandy. Although, he chose to leave out one thing – his own guilt. That gnawing wish that he’d have dragged the stubborn man to an escape pod. Never in his wildest dreams would he have pictured Shepard failing to flee in time.

“That’s about the long and short of it. No one is certain who attacked us. But I got a decent look at the ship from my escape pod. It was massive. I’d bet good creds that it was sent by the reapers.”

Jane was leaning forward, elbow to knee, head resting in a palm. “A race of sentient starships, hell bent on destroying everything and everyone. Well, that’s just perfect.”

“So you… you really believe me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“No one else did. The leaders of the galaxy, even when presented with every drop of evidence we could scrounge up, called us insane.”

Jane snorted. “It fits wonderfully if you ask me. I finally escape slavery only to find out there’s something even more daunting on the horizon. Something capable of brainwashing people in a similar fashion to chipping? That’s just my luck.”

“Now you sound like me.”

“You’re a cynic? I’d never have guessed.”

“Well, I mean, I’m a leader. If I don’t keep morale up, our mission on Omega will suffer.”

“Why are you doing this anyhow? Not that I’m objecting. I’d still be on that ship if it weren’t for you.” Jane shuddered and looked away. The woman was petite certainly, but she never seemed so small as that moment.

Garrus squeezed her shoulder. It was a gesture he’d come to learn meant comfort to humans and one Jane welcomed. “Honestly, it’s the only thing I can do. I wanted to help people, bring some hope into the galaxy before it goes belly up.”

“And you’re the only one in this base who knows?”

“Not counting you, yes.”  
  
“Mm. You shouldn’t be alone with something this immense. Stuff like that will eat you up if you let it.”

“I suppose. But I didn’t see the point in telling people when there’s little to nothing that can be done. We live the best lives we can until that day. Unfortunately, it’s all we can do.”

“So no one is preparing?”

“Anderson is doing… something. It was classified, so he couldn’t talk about it. But he didn’t sound very hopeful.”

“Okay, I have to ask. Who the hell is this Anderson guy? And why does he keep trying to send me money?”

Garrus chuckled. “You know, most people would be ecstatic at the prospect of free creds.”

“Do I strike you as ‘most people?’”

“Definitely not. You’re… true. Proud. Like even if you didn’t agree with me, you’d tell me straight up, instead of dancing around the issue. As for Anderson, your brother served under him for years. They were pretty close. Beyond that, I don’t know much, except that he’s trustworthy.”

“It’s not about trust. I just don’t like owing people.”

“He doesn’t want anything in return. The man was fairly adamant regarding that.”

“That’s… Yeah. That just makes it weirder. But it reminds me, I was wondering if you and the guys had some time on the 27th. If not, it’s fine. I’ll figure something out….. But I have a gig.”  
  
“A gig?”

“I sent a few of my songs to the owner of an out-of-the-way nightclub. Long story short, he hired me for a night. Since I won’t have my inhibitor chip out for a couple months, I was hoping you could watch my back.”

“We’ll be there. Did you really think I’d let you wander around Omega alone?”  
  
“Let me huh? Just you wait til I get this inhibitor out.”  
  
“Biotics are cool and all but I’ve seen you shoot.”

“You could help me in that regard you know.”  
  
“Before Mordin clears you for weapons training? Perish the thought! I’d wake up to him and an army of mechs at my door. I can hear him shrieking now. ‘Archangel! What doing with Jane?! Girl not ready. Told you must have fully healed leg. Hand Jane over now or be obliterated!’”

Jane snickered. “That was the worst Mordin impression ever.”

“You think so? And here I wanted to be a voice actor, star in some big anime movie. Become famous. Live on a tropical island….”

“I wouldn’t quit your day job.”

“Dashing my hopes and dreams! You are a cruel, cruel woman.”

She slid sideways onto the floor, laughing too hard to even sit up.

That evening, when Garrus retired for night, he drifted off to sleep faster than he had since the destruction of The Normandy. Maybe Jane was right. Being alone with the knowledge that the reapers would one day devour the galaxy hadn’t been best way to live. And for the first time in a long while, Garrus felt something akin to peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo I sort of destroyed my foot during my run. Tumbled down a very steep hill and landed on top of said foot. Then I had to drag my sorry ass across a river and a mile to reach the road. Damn thing is the size of a baseball and I can’t put any weight on it. Fun times! My husband declared it disgusting and ran away. I prefer the phrase ‘epicly gnarly.’
> 
> Yeah. I’m weird.
> 
> But that also means I’m stuck in one spot with nothing to do but write. Sooo new chapter ahead of schedule.


	53. Rebirth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was missing Shepard. A lot.

Through the eye of a needle you create me,  
Stitching polyester skin to unholy bones.  
I watched with glass eyes  
The embroidered veins sink into my flesh.

Perfect in your eyes,  
Am I only here to watch my demise?  
Perfect in your eyes,  
Your own little Frankenstein.

I felt the wicked serum grant me life,  
The warmth of virgin blood caress my bones.  
A poor mortal's heart now beats as mine.  
What a loathsome monstrosity, immortal, divine.

Floating endlessly. An aberration. A sense of wrongness filled every pore. Alchera in the distance, looming. Its cold, austere beauty mocking his every breath. He gasped but only fire filled his lungs, every crevice of his being cried out. Agony. He was in agony.

A scream echoed in the darkness.

His own?

The faux image of the tantalizing ice planet, his cruel mistress, was abruptly stolen.

Blinding light filtered through the tank, wrenching him from slumber.

His eyes flew open, taking in the surroundings. Immense tubes filled with green solvent – each large enough to house a grown man surrounded him. A tremble. That’s exactly what was contained in in those glass prisons – human men. Men who wore an all too-familiar face, eerily floating, blissfully unaware. Each specimen identical in every way.

Hands, hands without skin, only metal and bone, pounded futilely against the glass. Acute pain with every bash. Suspended in a viscous liquid, a breather across his face. He struggled. Writhing. Fighting. Fighting for freedom.  
  
A woman entered his vision. Dark haired. Her voice, a robust sound, cut through his liquid prison.

“What the hell is going on?”

“I told you something was off with the TPN. This program should ensure proper nutrition but something is wrong.”

“Damnit Wilson. Wrong is an understatement. He’s awake.”

She marched up to him, placing a palm on the other side of the glass. Sharp blue eyes gazing inwards, surprisingly tender. “It’s going to be okay. Don’t try to move Shepard. We’re here to help.”

Darkness came then, enveloping him in a warm embrace, a welcome respite from sharp reality. The fuzzy edges melted into obscurity. Sleep.

* * *

* * *

* * *

The touch of solid, cold steel crept up his back. Edges smooth. A table. He was on a table. The woman from before loomed above him, eyes boring into his own. “We’ll put you back under in just a minute. Can you move your right leg?”

Who was she? Why was she forcing this torture on him?

“I need you to focus Shepard, we can’t keep you awake too long, move your right leg.” Her voice was cruel, demanding.

Shepard. She kept calling him that. A familiar inkling rose in the back of his brain. A tickle. That was his name.

He obeyed. But it wasn’t good enough for the harlot. Her icy voice chastised him. “No. That’s your left. Try again.”

A broken, wrenching shriek surround him. Shrill. What sort of creature was capable of making such an awful racket? He wanted it to stop. It echoed across the room, bouncing from wall to wall until there was nothing but that terrible sound.

Was it coming from him? From the Shepard?

“Put him under **now**.”

The darkness returned, a warm cocoon. This was better. The empty was better.

* * *

* * *

* * *

A haze of green burst into view, hands now covered in pink flesh. He was back in the tank, surrounded by Shepard replicas. His own face directly across from his position, sleeping peacefully. Oblivious. Could he speak to them? Why were there so many? Where was he? He was Shepard. Or was he one of many? Was this some sort of clone army?

The memories were clearer now. A burst of red hair, glistening in the sun. His.. his mother? He reached for her outstretched hand, too late. Her soft smile was replaced by a heart wrenching grimace. Blood poured from her eyes. Terror surrounded him. Fire and ash. Screaming. His father bellowing into the abyss.

Bellowing for the child.

A stolen child.  
Too late. He had been too late.

The dark-haired woman emerged. Her faux gentleness did not fool him. She lifted a syringe. Only this time, when she injected it into the tube, he fought the nothingness that threatened to consume him.

“No.”  
What a grating, menacing sound his voice had become.   
She startled. Wide blue eyes.  
“No.”  
That felt good to say.  
  
But then the bitch lifted another syringe. The edges blurred. And he sunk back into the nothingness.

A menacing shriek. Metal on metal.  
Countless planets consumed.  
Trillions dead.  
The Prothean’s extinction.  
Flesh wrenching, writhing under metal gears.  
_The cycle must continue._

He was a captive in a strange lab of horrors.  
He was Shepard.  
And he would take no prisoners when he escaped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem at the chapter’s start was written when I was around 15. Back in ancient times! While searching for fan-art inspiration, I stumbled on my old deviantart account. Crazy reading the stuff I wrote back when I was a teenager. It’s from a time long buried, better forgotten. But slightly aggravating given the fact that my writing is no where near the caliber it once was. This is the first long story I’ve ever written though. So, perhaps it’s an unfair comparison. 
> 
> I wanted to thank everyone for the well wishes. This will be a long few months of recovery. Let’s just say I’m not one to sit still. A brush with death in my early twenties made me realize how much I enjoy feeling my body move while it still can. But I have something called hEDS, so I’m prone to wicked injuries. Although, I rarely break a bone thanks to being extremely bendy. I’m elastic. It’s a super power.
> 
> I’m already climbing the walls.


	54. True Strength

“In other news, a sect from Omega’s vorcha mafia, attempted a sneak attack on Menae. The plot, uncovered by Lieutenant Kaiden Alenko, involved aerial bombings of the turian stronghold. Alenko radioed Palaven Command who swiftly responded. There were no reported vorcha survivors, a certain reminder of Palaven’s military might. Councilor Sparatus had the following to say: _While I can’t fathom anyone foolish enough to threaten the security of turian space, let this be a_ _reminder_ _to our enemies. We will never accept terrorists or brigands among us. Cross our borders at your own peril._ Despite lingering suspicions, The Blood Pack denies any affiliation with the vorcha mafia.”

Jane bolted upright, laughter reverberating from her chest in fitful bouts. It took every fiber of her being to swallow the lunch Nalah and her were munching on and not sputter bits of rice everywhere.

Over the past weeks, it became clear that Krul was struggling with hospitalization. So, in an effort to alleviate his loneliness, she’d opted to accompany Nalah during her shifts and serenade the ward. Her music turned out to be a hit – especially with Mordin. The salarian frequently hummed along and tapped his foot to the rhythm.

“Okanna’s fuckin’ knickers, they fell for it.” Even Krul was bellowing with laughter. “Oh, we gotta call Castor and company.”

Jane pulled up her Omni-tool and rang Garrus. “Holy crap have you seen the news?”

“Can it wait for a bit? We’ve barely started drills, we’re running late because SOMEONE drank too much mezcal last night. And is about to feel my boot stomping his ass.”  
  
“You’re famous or infamous or whatever. Tune into channel 5, you won’t regret it.”

She could hear the guys grunting from exertion in the background. A few seconds passed before Garrus was guffawing and the men had gathered to see what the fuss was about.

“I can’t believe it worked. What morons.”

“’Sup boss?” Ripper joined the conversation.

“Remember that ghost site? The one I used to recruit you two?”

There was a murmur of ascent, emanating from somewhere out of view. She could hear the clip start playing and within moments, the roaring laughter of the entire team filled the room.

Jane grinned. “Told you it’d be worth it.”

“Oh man.” Mierin’s voice had grown surprisingly high pitched. “Those idiots.”

“Can’t say I regret that pick me up. Thank you. Anyhow, we have to get back to it. What time are you off again?”

“Five thirty.” Nalah answered.

“See you girls then.”

They only managed a few more mouthfuls when Nalah’s omni-tool began vibrating. She snapped the tupperware lid closed and handed it to Jane. “Could you put this in the fridge for me hon?”

“Sure thing.”

Once her and Krul were alone, Jane turned her attention to the batarian. He was progressing well enough physically. But lying in a bed with nothing more to do than relive the past wasn’t conducive to recovery. The man was particularly pensive today. And despite the momentary levity, it seemed that he was sinking back into a dark pit.

“When I’m finished with lunch, I need to start practicing for my gig.”

Krul grunted.

“Since when aren’t you excited to hear me play?”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

Krul considered her for a few minutes before answering. “Do you know any human songs?”

“Not really.”  
  
“That isn’t a ‘no.’”

“I… don’t know any on violin. At least, not that I know of. I think some of the hip-hop covers I’m learning are human though. Why?’

“Not that club stuff … I mean… something in the same realm as what you usually play but human.”

She snickered. “Emotional you mean. The only one I know, well, I don’t know it on violin and I’m not even certain of the notes or if I’ve bastardized it over the years.”

“See? You know something.”

“You never listen. I don’t know it on violin.”

“Bet you can sing though.”

That was the thing about Krul. Unlike the rest of the team, he had an intimate understanding of The Hegemony. And he knew that there was no way she’d have survived in one piece without multiple, well honed talents. While she hadn’t shared her childhood on the military base with him, he knew enough regarding the fate of attractive female slaves. If one didn’t have talent, a hook, something to make them stand out from the pack, they usually didn’t last long. Brothels could be brutal, horrific places if one’s only commodity was sex. Yet, she had played the violin as though her life depended on it – because her life depended on it. And once again, she was more fortunate than the other slaves. Although, unlike biotics, that wasn’t due to an accident of birth. She earned her place as one of the top entertainers, always keeping one step ahead. Making certain her worth as a musician outweighed what was between her legs.

She also knew that the sneaky bastard had scanned her tattoo. Biotic projects run by The Hegemony were considered top secret, it wouldn’t have shown. But her fate afterwards must’ve registered. He had good intentions, yet it was annoying at times, not being able to hide behind her well-practiced visage. At the very least, she wasn’t embarrassed around him. Krul came from the same brutal world as she. There was no look of pity in his eyes, only understanding and compassion; even if he was a cranky old man.

She also suspected that they had more in common than he realized. During bandage changes, the scars on his back and chest hadn’t escaped her. Only a cat-o-nine tail made those marks, the favored mode of discipline in military strongholds. While he may not be biotic, it was entirely possible that he spent his childhood in The Hegemony’s clutches, being trained in the art of death much like her.

“It’s a lullaby I think. My mom used to sing it. And… well …. then so did I when it just me Sciffy.”

“Sing it for me.”

“Ugh. I don’t even remember all the words. It’ll be terrible.”

“C’mon. I bet humans have beautiful music.”

“You’re such a pain in the ass. But if it’ll make you happy or whatever….”

She hummed, a quiet, gentle melody. The mellow tune grew louder, thicker as she found her place within it.

May you stay forever young,  
May you always do for others  
And let others do for you.  
May you build a ladder to the stars  
And climb on every rung,

May your hands always be busy,  
May your feet always be swift,  
May you have a strong foundation  
When the winds of changes shift.  
May your heart always be joyful,  
May your song always be sung,  
May you stay forever young,

She looked away as the song came to a close, a surprising amount of emotion bubbled to the surface. Memories of those sticky-hot Kar’Shani nights, the singing bird-creatures that lulled her to sleep. Her and Sciffy on the roof, chanting into the night. Of giggles under the stars. Of small hands with big dreams. If she were being honest, she missed Kar’Shan, the vibrant jungle, and the freedom it bore. They had leaves as large as boats with thick, interweaving vines and trees who formed such a tight knight canopy that most plants evolved to need significantly less sunlight. Was she crazy to miss the world that enslaved her? Probably. She was many things, but normal was never one of them.

“I hadn't thought much of human ‘art’ before you, child. But you… you have a gift.”

“Oh come on.” Jane snorted. It was an ugly sound, a sharp contrast to the robust tune that had filled the room only moments before. “You can go on the extranet and listen to almost anything. Everything I’ve ever played and more.”  
  
“Don’t give me that bullshit. I’ve heard you play. You know how few people bother learning a string instrument these days? Nah. They just buy those synthetic contraptions that play notes with the press of a finger. You put your soul into it. Ah, gods, I haven’t heard music like that since…. since I was a boy.” Krul shuddered. “I’m sorry for what my kind did to you.”

“They’re not your kind.” Jane bit out with an alarming amount of anger.

“Mm.” He seemed lost in thought for awhile, staring absently into the ceiling. And Jane took the opportunity to begin tuning her violin. She plucked at its strings, miming the notes to various face-paced dance songs.

“Are you going to be okay?”

That caught her by surprise. “I’m fine. You’re the one lying in a hospital bed.”

“I hear you continue spending exorbitant amounts of time alone in your room.”

“Been gossiping with Nalah I see.”

“She’s concerned.”

“Oh piss on that. I’m doing just fine. Besides, your illustrious commander doesn’t seem worried. Why are you?”  
  
“Who Castor?”

“Who else would I be referring to?”

“He’s a damn kid, practically the same age as you. Takes a parent to...”

“Wait, he’s my age?” Her head popped up, violin tuning ventures completely forgotten.

“Yeah.” Krul’s eyes slid to the corner, peering at her.

“Huh. I thought he was old, like you.”  
  
“Gee. Thanks.”

“I’ll be fine old man. After all, I didn’t dive into a vat of poisonous powder.”

“A momentary lapse in judgment.”

“Well, promise you won’t do it again and I’ll try to spend more time in the common areas.”

“Sure. Whatever. You’re making me regret asking.”

“Uh huh.”

Jane picked up her violin, bringing to rest just beneath her chin. When she placed the bow, atop the strings and gently moved it to and fro, Krul waved a hand in tandem. It wasn’t until he fell asleep that she chose to move on from batarian classical to a newly discovered genre. The violin brought an interesting flavor to the hip-hop music Ripper frequently blasted. The man was half-deaf thanks to constantly blowing out his eardrums with it. Yet, the tunes were catchy, upbeat, and exactly what a lively night club expected.

Mordin entered a short time after to check on the slumbering Krul. Yet, shockingly, he didn’t leave right away. Instead, the salarian opted to stay for a few more minutes, snapping his fingers to the beat. Then he gave a thumbs up, an incredibly warm smile, and raced to the next patient.

She really liked Mordin. The man had a way of putting an entire room at ease.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Citations: Sons of Anarchy – Forever Young  
> Link: https://youtu.be/K2p84Xdx8ck?list=PLv6mGW1N6xyv9H7PfmzgQ1W_edQP7dv_V
> 
> I changed the date of Jane’s gig. And I’m considering getting rid of this time and date stuff. It was a nice idea but I feel like it’s limiting, which a terrible way to approach creative writing. We’ll see. Last but not least, I intend to head back in chapters and change Alice/Sciffy’s slave number. It's not a big deal but it’ll be going from 6721 to 6021.
> 
> Anyway, I’m trying to show the side of Krul few get to know. Jane, fluent in his native language, doesn’t accidentally insult him every two seconds. Batarian language (at least in this fic) is very intricate, using a lot of subtle body language along with speech. Slow chapter but it can’t always be craziness and explosions, even if I enjoy the latter.
> 
> Also, thank you for your patience. It’s been a crazy week or so. Our car kicked the bucket. But in happier news, despite what I was told initially, I did not break my leg, just bent several things that seriously should not be bent that way. I’m only on crutches + a boot for 4-6 more weeks. Then I’m free. Thank god. The entire house has fallen apart since this thing started. And cooking on crutches is not easy. It’s nice to be needed I guess. But good lord.


	55. You Have (Annoying) Mail

Garrus’s Omni-tool pinged, a quick glance told him it was Krul. Probably bitching about wanting to come home again.

From: [UpYours228@](mailto:UpYours228@TerminusNationState.org)[TerminusNationState.org](mailto:UpYours228@TerminusNationState.org)  
To: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com

Garrus,  
  
You gotta get me out of here man. Now that the crazy salarian knows I like music, whenever Jane isn’t around, he’s taken to singing. Rescue me before I put a hole in his head.

* * *

From: [UpYours228@](mailto:UpYours228@TerminusNationState.org)[TerminusNationState.org](mailto:UpYours228@TerminusNationState.org)  
To: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com

If you don’t come get me today, I’m recording this guy and blasting it in your ears. You won’t be able take a dump without him singing about it.

* * *

From: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
To: [UpYours228@](mailto:UpYours228@TerminusNationState.org)[TerminusNationState.org](mailto:UpYours228@TerminusNationState.org)

Seems like an empty threat. Besides, I don’t negotiate with terrorists.

* * *

  
From: [UpYours228@TerminusNationState.org](mailto:UpYours228@TerminusNationState.org)  
To: Garrus_VK2180@citadelmail.com  
  
Do not underestimate me boy!

* * *

* * *

* * *

At two a.m. Garrus was rudely awakened by the shriek of the damned. He leaped to his feet, grabbed a rifle and bolted out of his bedroom. However, the moment he cleared the threshold, a very static, dark living area greeted him. It was at that precise moment it dawned on him that the ruckus was coming from his omni-tool. And it was none other than Mordin, or his voice at least.

_I am a very model of a scientist salarian. I’ve studied species turian, asari, and batarian. I’m quite good at genetics as a subset of biology because I am an expert which I know is a tautology. My xenoscience studies range from urban to agrarian. I am a very model of a scientist salarian._

“Get me outta here or I’m holdin’ all you shits hostage with this guy’s music.” Krul’s voice crackled through the shrill melody.

_Through many dangers, toils, and snares. I have already come. ‘Tis grace that brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home._

_Mm. No._ _Back to patter songs!_

“Boss?” Ripper emerged from the sleeping quarters holding out his omni-tool. Weaver, Mierin, and Sensat were hot on his heels. Their arms each glowing a menacing orange, singing in tandem.

“It’s comin’ outta Frank’s omni too. But he sleeps like the dead.”

“It’s Krul. He must’ve hacked us.”

“…. why?”

“He’s trying to browbeat me into letting him come back to base sooner rather than later.”

 _Glycine, valine, leucine, isoleucine, alanine, they are all aliphatic so you will not see a ring!_ _The lone human amino acid with one is proline. From protein we are formed!_

“Is it gonna stop? Because if it’s not gonna stop, I say give him what he wants!” Weaver was standing with his forehead resting in his palm. Garrus had admittedly run them hard the previous day. Even he was feeling it. They were probably drained, sore, and in desperate need of sleep. Ah, military life. It was a wonder he enjoyed it so much.

_With two hydroxyl groups you’ll find serine and threonine. For sulfur look to cysteine or to methionine!_

“Only sleep one hour. From two thirty to three thirty. Still, most unwise to disturb me” Sensat was glaring at his omni-tool as if he were debating smashing it.

“Do we still gotta run drills at 06:30?” Ripper whined.

“Of course you do! Think the gangs will give us a vacation because Krul is being a jackass?” Garrus grumbled. “Krul? Okay, you’ve made your point. You want to come home.”

“Comin’ to get me?”

“Right now?”

“Yes right now!”

“Come on, can’t we just sleep and talk in the morning.”

“They took me off morphine Garrus. I either need a butt load of drugs or sweet, sweet freedom. This guy never shuts up.”

“Can’t he hear you complaining about him? Why don’t you try something normal like asking nicely?”

“He’s wearing earbuds and singing along to some gods-forsaken musical. And of course I fucking tried asking! The asshole’s got a mind of his own.”

“It’s three in the morning man!”

“Well if I ain’t sleepin’ neither are you shits.”

 _For bases you have arginine, lysinee, and histidine. From protein we are formed!  
_ _Now the aromatics!_

 _Tryptophan and tyrosine and phenylalanine! Aspartic and glutamic are both acids as we’ve seen.  
_ _For amides, see asparagine and also glutamine. From protein we are formed!_

“What’s going on?” Jane emerged from her downstairs bedroom. Her disheveled hair sticking straight up.

“Krul’s little gift. I take it your omni-tool is going off as well?” Garrus answered.  
  
“No. I just heard the commotion and decided to check it out.”

 _In prophase you see chromatins condense to chromosomes, in metaphase their centromeres align to make new homes! I_ _n anaphase they separate, then telophase arrives, and when cytokinesis comes, two cells lead separate lives!_

“Is that Mordin? That’s hilarious.”

“Say Krul, why yous not torturing Jane with this shit?” Ripper moaned.

“I actually like her. You losers on the other hand….”

“Fine! You know what? You win Krul. But I promise you, the second you can walk, crawl, or somehow move your body across the base, I’m going to make your life a living hell. My foot is going to be so far up your ass, you won’t know up from down. Boot camp style man. Boot camp style.” Garrus growled, although he was admittedly finding the whole matter extremely entertaining. If he weren’t in charge, he’d be biting down on his talons trying trying to suppress fits of laughter..

“Bring it on boy.”


	56. I Feel Better When I'm Dancin'

**September 27th 2184 CE**

Jane rifled through the various outfits Nalah dropped off. They were meeting at the clinic before heading to Dilia’u. It was a restaurant-bar run by an asari couple and where she was due to play. That little tidbit of news was not received well. She prepped for a night-club. Not a restaurant. Apparently, her research into the place had been sub-par.

She pulled on a green, army-man tank-top with (CHEW THE BULLET) written in bold, fat letters, a pair of tight, black slacks and combat boots. The blouse had a scoop neck yet refrained from showing an abundance of cleavage. Okanna’s ass, she’d had enough of having to dress like that.

After messing about with a few bobby-pins and wrinkling her nose at the fact that her hair scarcely reached chin-length, she turned her attention to her violin and equipment. Well, equipment was making things out to be fancier than they were. She’d snagged a few essentials from the kitchen and jury rigged a drum-set out of spoons and dishes. After recording a track for the beat, she uploaded it to her ‘boom-box’ and set off.

* * *

To borrow the words of Frank, Jane had brought everything but the kitchen sink to her gig. The young woman was practically buzzing with excitement. She spearheaded the charge across the station, a wagon full of mysteries in tow.

Their destination turned out to be a seedy little joint in the Kenzo District. Then again, if there was an upstanding establishment on Omega, Garrus had yet to see it. Every place was a den of inequity. He was trying to change things, but there were days it felt like he was a mere breeze flailing against a mountain.

“This table looks good.” Krul announced. He may have successfully bullied his way out of the hospital but, according to Mordin, the wheelchair wasn’t up for debate. Nalah pushed him to the table’s edge. And Jane immediately sat down at the booth, pulled her violin out of its case, and set the tuning program on her omni-tool.

Weaver had opted to stay home for his weekly family call. Mierin was in one of his moods, which meant the man wouldn’t be leaving base unless there was a mission. And Sensat was busy developing some new explosive tech. That was fine by her. Honestly, she only needed one person to come. But nearly everyone decided to tag along. Jane was flattered. Each member of The Archangel team had been unbelievably kind. It wasn’t something she was accustomed to.

When the time came, she opened with an energetic ditty before leveling things off with a slow-paced romantic piece. Frank took Nalah’s hand and they danced cheek to cheek. It was adorably tender. And she found herself swaying to their rhythm along with her own notes.

A few patrons gathered snapping their fingers to the beat, clapping in-between songs. And when intermission came, she wasted no time hawking a few audio-books. After selling 132 creds worth, the frosty lemonade she’d ordered was practically calling to her. Thirty minutes of intermission remained. Then, the dinner rush would hit and she’d back on-stage. Frank introduced her to the yellow substance a few weeks back, and it promptly became her favorite drink. It was tart, sweet, and made her mind race with dreamy thoughts. A ‘sugar rush’ is what he called it.

Krul was in his own world, eyes closed. He was easily drained and had spent the past few hours swaying in his chair to the music. Frank and Nalah had taken a break from dancing and were working on polishing off a steak they’d ordered. Garrus was at the bar, chatting with a female turian or at least trying to. Okanna’s ass. She may not know the first thing about courtship but Jane was fairly certain it wasn’t supposed to sound like this.

“I mean, I’m one of the biggest, baddest mercs around.” Garrus’s voice carried across the floor.

“I see.” The woman was clearly losing interest. One didn’t need to be proficient on female turians to see that. Although, she was quickly realizing that Garrus was anything but an expert.

Ripper’s head jolted forward, spraying beer down his chin. His shirt, (SlAyEr REIGN IN BLOOD) was soaked.

Nalah swiftly kicked the curly-haired dumb ass under the table. “Be nice!”

“This. Is. Glorious.”

“Shut up!” Jane hissed, before turning to make certain Garrus was still preoccupied with their waitress and hadn’t overheard.  
  
“I… can’t.”

“… My skills rival the toughest bounty hunters out there.” Garrus took a step towards the woman with his beer outstretched as if he intended to make a toast. “In fact, I have this big gun I want to show you.”

Ripper made a strangled sound, head in his hands, futilely trying to cover up his laughter.

Jane turned to him. “I will actually hurt you if you don’t shut up.”

“I’m trying.” His voice was high pitched, tears streamed down his face.  
  
“There will be nowhere you can go, no where you can hide. I’ll put itching powder day and night in your bed and slugs in your boots.”

“You’s… you’s m-m-making it worrse.”

The strain of laughing so hard while trying to remain silent was taking its toll. Ripper’s face turned a ruddy color as a red flush battled against his swarthy skin. He gasped for breath.

“Wait, I think he’s coming back. Fix your damn face!”

Nalah grabbed some ice water and splashed it on him. “HEY!” It may not have been well received, but it certainly got the job done.

When Garrus arrived, the sight of Ripper’s dripping scowl catching his eye, Nalah coolly offered up an explanation. “Just sobering up you rambunctious boys.”

_Damn. She was better at lying than one would think._

“Right. Well, I have some great ideas for the sniper’s perch. What if we installed a cannon? I mean, those casino creds won’t spend themselves.” Garrus scooted in and immediately began drawing diagrams on a napkin.

Not trusting herself to keep a lid on the giggling fits, Jane immediately scurried back to the stage. Tensing and flexing her fingers to the tune of Bad Guy, Havanna, and several other upbeat songs, she played into the wee hours of the morning.

Upon finishing, Veoslia, one of the owners, strode over. “Damn girl. Remind me to hire you again.”

Jane smiled. “Well, you have my number.”

“Hell yes. Next time, I’m going to advertise. Get this place off its ass!”

Hair was clinging to the sides of her face, slick with sweat. It’d be a mistake to try and clean her violin like this. Once Veoslia transferred the credits, she placed it in the case, left it with the squad, and scurried off the restroom.

The unmistakable sound of footsteps emerged when she turned the corner. She recognized the pattern without so much as turning her head. Human. Male.

“Hey sugar.”

Her head whipped in the direction of the taunt. Tall but thin. A wisp of a man, really. Matted hair parted to reveal a ragged face, missing teeth. Drugs probably. She could get the jump on him, kick him right in the balls. Although, she wasn’t certain what one was supposed to…

Nalah’s hand suddenly cupped her shoulder, jolting her from her thoughts. “I don’t think she’s interested.”

She could feel Garrus lurking behind her, a growl in his throat.  
  
“What can I say.” The man stepped forward. “I like the way you move.”

This was a fool. Eyeing his bare neck, she fingered the dagger clasped against her belt. Leaping forward and slitting his throat would be child’s play. The only thing stopping her was the fact that she was fairly certain such a mess would lead to her being kicked out. And she wanted to work at this particular establishment again. She liked the place. It had flavor.

Garrus’s hulking form suddenly stepped in front of her. “Alright buddy. That’s enough. You’re outta here.”

As Garrus half-lead, half-dragged the moron out, Nalah turned to her. “Honey, we were right over there! Why didn’t you open your com? We’d have gotten here much sooner.”

“It was one guy.” She shrugged. “Besides, I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. Polite society right?”  
  
“You are on Omega. This is not The Citadel or polite society. Goodness, I should’ve thought of this. When we get home, you and I are going to have a talk.”

Nalah took her by the hand and lead her back to the table. And Jane chose to remain silent, not sharing how easily it would’ve been to cut his jugular. Nalah looked at her and saw an innocent child, something to protect. Whenever the woman laid a soft, gentle hand on her, it took everything not to try and cocoon herself within the woman’s grace. Was this what her own mother had been like? Was it so wrong to want it to continue? Even if it was just for a little while.

She was anything but innocent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, if you are anything like me and want things to be 100% a surprise. Stop  
> reading, close the window, and run away. I know there’s an option to turn off tags so  
> one has absolutely zero spoilers. I’m the type that falls into this category. So, if you  
> don’t want to know who’s hooking up with who and a few spoilers, skip this.  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> Soooo I’ve received several messages on FF asking what I intend to do with Shep and  
> Tali. And this seemed like the best way to address them as I don't want to bloat my  
> word count there.
> 
> The last time I attempted answering this, it turned into a ramble about my creative  
> process and I wound up ditching it. But it's a prevalent enough question that I felt like  
> trying again. So, here’s the scoop. One of the reasons I began writing this fic is my  
> desire to give my two favorite romances the send off they deserve. Will Tali & Shep  
> receive the same amount of attention as the Garrus & Jane pairing? Maybe. Maybe not.  
> It’s not really something I can quantify. But I want it to have the same or at least  
> similar amount of detail and forward thought put into it.
> 
> In my opinion, Tali is, by far, the most difficult character to evolve. She’s been stuck  
> in a suit her whole life and I have to account for the fact one cannot see her facial  
> expressions along with an entire lifetime that developed drastically different from my  
> own. Liz Sroka did an amazing job bringing her to life. And I want to capture that. I  
> won’t half ass it. While I love a challenge, she scares me a little. I’m a tad obsessed  
> with getting things ‘right.’ And the last thing I want to do is promise something I can’t  
> deliver. When I reach that point, if my skills aren’t up to par, I’ll cut it before I destroy  
> it. Yet, that would be an extremely sad thing and not my intention whatsoever.  
> But let me offer you some hope, I have a lot in the works for Tali/Mshep. In fact, this  
> fic’s epilogue is half-written from this couple’s POV. And it has a song assigned to it  
> which means I highly doubt it will change. Plus, after outlining Tali’s part in the  
> finale, I feel a bit more confident about my ability to develop her character.
> 
> My intention is for Tali to play an essential role. However, a story needs to flow. I  
> have to feel it to write it. And Tali/Shep is so far off in the distance that I’m reluctant  
> to make promises. (Other than the epilogue.) I can tell you that I’ve spent a great deal  
> of time deciding what quarians feel like under that suit. And that I hope to shift the  
> spotlight to Tali/Shep for a portion of ME3. It's the reapers and how the war is fought  
> that I've been focused on however.
> 
> I was also asked if it was a minor relationship and if it’d receive more than a passing  
> mention. It is definitely not minor. If I had to categorize it, I’d say it’s secondary.  
> While the primary romance in this fic is Garrus/Jane, I want Tali & Shep to have their  
> time to shine.
> 
> Minor would apply to the various other couplings that will happen over time. I don’t  
> have those tagged. Only major relationships are tagged.  
> For those who are reading for that particular romance, be prepared for the long haul.  
> The final product will be a massive fic. Honestly, sometimes I wonder what I got  
> myself into. I thought this thing would be finished in 3 - 6 months. Oh, my poor, naïve  
> self.
> 
> Yet, even I don’t know what will ultimately happen. The best stories write themselves.  
> In summary, this is a very long story, full of both platonic and romantic relationships.  
> And bromance! Gotta have some good bromance.
> 
> I have more ideas than I know what to do with. But taking those day dreams and  
> turning them into something readable is quite the task.
> 
> So, buckle up. And please be patient. :)


	57. Unsteady

**September 28 th 02:11 2184 CE**

The catwalks. That was how the slippery bastard was getting around, well two could play at that game. For weeks, he’d been hunting Archangel and company. Garm had vorcha spies spread across the entire station. Yet it took ages to merely pinpoint how the guy was skulking around Omega, much less catch him while he was vulnerable.

Until recent months, Garm had a nice setup, easy creds, all the blue azure he could want. And the asshole was ruining it. At this very moment, he was supposed to be in bed with Myret, an unbelievably hot little number employed at Afterlife. But thanks to Mister Jack Ass, Weyrloc Guld himself ordered the Archangel menace dealt with. And so he found himself surrounded by a pack of stinking vorcha who could barely string two thoughts together. They made excellent cannon fodder, yet pitiful company. Not to mention their pathetic hygiene caused them to smell like piss and shit.

At least lady luck had been on his side tonight. He’d pinpointed Archangel’s location, and the situation couldn’t be sweeter. Merely two combat capable squad members were with him. The rest of the group consisted of a cripple and two female civilians. That noble fool would stop at nothing to protect the women and with such a small force, the turian would fail miserably. Once he was desperate, angry, and stupid he’d be easy prey.

“Alright. There they are. No survivors, not even the women. We’re not here to play, I want them put down fast.”

“Raah. What about Archangel?” One of the vorcha hissed.  
  
“He’s mine. I’ll separate him from his squad, keep him busy. Vrik and Pok will be with me. The rest of you wretches are assigned to his team. They’re soft but the curly haired male is trouble. Put him down fast.”

“The human?”  
  
“Are you morons fuckin’ serious? Yes. The human. Aside from a crippled batarian and the turian, who is Archangel himself, they’re all human.”

“Got it Garm. Don’t worry I’ll provide these dimwits with proper direction.” Gere offered his reassurance.

Garm nodded to his second in command. The krogan was young, bit of a hothead, but a good fighter. Kid had potential. And after years of tutelage in the art of war, he could trust Gere would take care of business.

“Alright, when they turn the corner, we unleash hell on his squad. Remember. Goal number one is to separate Archangel from his team. You deal with them then join me.”

Garm, flanked by fifteen of his finest vorcha, descended from the catwalks. He nearly landed on Archangel himself. A pity the turian’s reflexes were so sharp. A second’s delay and his neck would’ve snapped in two, putting an end to this nonsense. He heaved the turian from his companions with the flick of a wrist. The trap had worked perfectly. Archangel’s team was in disarray, he could hear their frantic screaming as they scrambled to retreat, cutoff from their commander. Perhaps he’d be back in time for a little nookie with Myret after all.

* * *

* * *

* * *

“You play so beautifully hon. What do you plan to do with it?” Nalah, one arm hooked on Frank’s elbow, was chattering beside her.

“I dunno. Record stuff. Make money.” Jane shrugged. There was something odd about Garrus. She could see the tension in his neck, the way his head cocked as if he were listening for something.

A pause. Garrus unlocked his pistol’s clip ever so subtly. What was….

The next thing she knew, massive shadowy figures filled air. Crashing metal on metal. Jane saw Garrus dodge only to be caught by a whirl of biotic energy.

“Converge on the girls! Don’t let them near!” It was the last order any of them heard as Garrus disappeared under a haze of blue, followed by a krogan warlord and several vorcha body guards.

They raced backwards, Ripper pulled Krul from his chair in the nick of time. Half a second later, white foam and black leather erupted around them. A grenade blew the chair to smithereens as they took shelter behind a concrete planter. Thorny branches pulled at her hair.

Vorcha were on every side. There had to be at least a dozen of the creatures. Certainly more than she could count in a few scant seconds. Either way, there were too many. Way. Too. Many. She popped her head over the concrete box in an attempt to survey the area.

“Damnit Jane stay down.” Krul bellowed, pulling her to the ground. The batarian was crawling forward, laying down covering fire while simultaneously attempting to maneuver drones. Despite his best efforts, the mechanical balls were being disabled faster than he could replace them. It wasn’t sustainable.

“You need help!” Jane spun around wildly. They were surrounded. Not just by vorcha but two massive, well armored krogan were approaching and she was fairly certain no one else was even aware, caught up in the chaos surrounding their direct vicinity. Krul was on his belly, putting up as much fight as someone with merely one working leg could. Nalah clearly had zero combat training. Frank was growing frantic, trying to protect both his wife and herself. Ripper was the only one holding his own, and with the imminent krogan charge, that was about to change.

She’d grown stronger over recent months. Gained weight, began rebuilding the muscles that had wasted away during her time aboard those abhorrent slaver ships. And for the first time in years, with adrenaline pumping through her veins, she could feel biotics prickling just beneath her skin. Muffled certainly. The inhibitor did its job well. But she’d pushed past it before. It’d been years, yet the situation was deteriorating rapidly. She had to do something.

“Frank, don’t try to follow. Nalah.” She turned to the terrified woman on all fours, gasping as if the station had suddenly become devoid of air. “Keep your head down.”  
  
“What the hell are you doin’ girl?” Frank grit out between shots.  
  
“Getting us out of this.”

She gripped the air, summoning the warm, tingling strength that had lain dormant for far too long. White hot pain erupted in the back of her eyes. She bit it downed, swallowed it whole. They would not take this squad, the only people she had left to care about. A barrier blossomed in front of her and she charged, quickly making her way to their sole defender on the front line. Ripper turned to her, the whites of his eyes glowed against the blue.

“You’s… a civvie... I … thought.”

“No time. I got your back. Two krogan on our left.”

Half a dozen vorcha surrounded them. Ripper’s shields were flickering, she could feel the static charge popping next to her. That couldn’t be good. She wasn’t accustomed to fights with fancy tech involved, merely barriers, skin, and bone. Not waiting for his death to find out, she reached into the abyss and drew power from the very depth of her being. Pain threatened to overtake her as she captured them both in a protective biotic field, then lashed out, throwing the two nearest cretins against a propane tank. Ripper finished them off with a well placed shot. It felt as though the explosion rocked the entire district.

“Crap crap crap. Are you guys sill alive?” Garrus’s frantic voice broke through the static.

“Janes gots some moves boss.”

“ **What**?! She’s fighting?! This guy is blocking me from returning. Killed the asshole’s vorcha but .....”

“No time. Ripper the krogan.” Jane was acutely aware of just how strained her voice had become. Her entire body was wracked with pain, the sharp burning was threatening her very consciousness as she struggled to maintain the dual barrier.  
  
She glanced to the side, they were within range of the giant lizards now. Bullets alone wouldn’t stop them, and her attempts to hurl them to the ground were futile.  
  
“We’s need that burnin’ shit!” Ripper shouted over the cacophony.

Krul immediately turned his attention from the vorcha as his drones, equipped with pyro attacks, pushed into the chaos. “On my signal Jane.” A few moments passed before the batarian was satisfied with whatever invisible force was preventing her biotics from making a dent. “NOW.”

Her arm shot out, flinging the krogan into a cement column with a satisfying smack. One howled. “Bitch cracked my plate! Oh you’re gonna die slow.”

“Garm said no playing!”

“Don’t fuckin’ care.”

Ripper attempted advancing but a trio of wretched scavengers emerged, forcing him back into her protective barrier.

“Jane, the moment you’re charged, toss the vorcha in the air, I’ll occupy the krogan. HOLD TIGHT. This is gonna be rough.” Krul had taken command with the ease of slipping on an old shoe. “Frank shoot from cover until they’re sky high then blow them to hell. Do not let that barrier fall Jane.”

Once more, she thrust out her arm wrenching the vorcha from behind a collapsed pillar, allowing Ripper and Butler to finish them off. A breath later she could hear Krul’s voice booming across the coms. “Keep up the pressure.”

As another pair attempted to replace them, she flung them to the floor. Without a barrage of bullets interrupting him, Ripper pounced. Most of the vorcha were gone, yet the krogan had taken to smashing the drones beneath their feet, one managed to incapacitate Frank with some sort of shock grenade. Nalah barely rolled away in time. Their only respite was a momentary argument that erupted between the massive lizards over which dumb fuck brought the wrong grenades. Now the krogan were advancing on Ripper’s flank. Jane wobbled. Spots flooded her vision, a sea of bright green was rapidly engulfing her sight.

_Not yet._

Clenching her teeth, she brought both arms forward, summoning every drop of strength left inside and unleashed it in the krogan’s direction. The encasing warmth of biotics washed over her before departing. There was a thud followed by Krul shouting ‘charge.’ The sounds of an omni blade slicing through rough flesh and a triumphant cheer.

Sensing victory, she dropped the barrier and fell to her knees. The world was etched in green and yellow. The taste of blood dribbled into her mouth.

“We … we did it.” Jane panted while bringing a hand to her face. The slick, sticky feeling of blood immediately greeted her.

A nose bleed. Worse than before but that wasn’t surprising. Clearly, a full on fire-fight with an inhibitor took more than her previous encounters with the blasted thing. A deafening ringing erupted inside her head. _S_ _hit._ She quickly moved a hand to her ear. The hair that had regrown was soaked in syrupy liquid.

Memories during their tumultuous escape rose to the surface of her mind. Wrenching Sciffy’s hand away. Pushing the child from the skirmish. Blood, blood everywhere as she slaughtered the brothel guards like the rabid pit-fighter she was beaten into. Their pitch-black eyes widening in shock when she slit their throats. _Yeah. Not such a helpless little girl_ _after all_ _._

Suddenly, the glaring green became a blaze so intense she cried out. And the world went dark.  
  
“Oy Jane!”

Was that Ripper? Sounds were stifled.

Strong hands pulled her from the floor, a muscular arm beneath her knees. “Boss? Boss? It’s Jane. We’s goin’ to Mordin.”

  
< Garbled response >

“No. …….They’re

………

dead.”

Her head was sheer agony, the ringing had grown too loud to decipher anything else. She squeezed her eyes shut. Spasms were overtaking muscles. Their jerky movements were out of her control, yet years of conditioning kept her silent. She clenched her fist, feeling the needle like sensation spread to the tips of each finger.

The next thing she knew, Mordin’s rapid speech reached out from somewhere above.

“Jane? Jane? Can hear now?”

“Uh huh.”  
  
“Holy sheet. You’s awake?” That was definitely Ripper.

“Unfortunately.”

“How many fingers?” Mordin made a snapping noise a few inches from her face.

“Never been this bad before….”  
  
“Done this before? Used biotics with inhibitor chip?”

“How else would I be alive?” She felt herself slump over, despite being told otherwise, the arm that was supposed to hold her upright disobeyed. Then again, for all she knew, it wasn’t even there. Everything, aside from her head, felt like jelly.

“Open eyes! Count fingers. Urgent Jane. Need to focus.”

“Can’t see anything.” She felt the fast paced salarian freeze.

“Should be fine. No worries. But need surgery. Daniel!”

“Yes sir?”  
  
“Prep OR. Need to remove inhibitor chip immediately. Shifted to occipital lobe.”

She felt the wheels beneath the bed roll across concrete floor, little bumps as they crossed cracks in the terrain. Mere minutes passed before they halted. Thin fingers fastened a mask over her face, while stroking her hair. The smell of antiseptic and cold. The steel table. It brought her back in time.

And the present world drifted away.

* * *

* * *

* * *

The moment Garrus and Garm heard the cheer, a spark of understanding passed between them. The krogan’s men were dead. He had zero back up, and soon, Archangel’s squad would descend like locusts.  
  
The warlord tried to flee yet sharp turian reflexes, honed under Shepard’s guidance, lead to a break neck chase. Garrus nearly had the krogan pinned when a frantic call burst across the coms.

“Boss? Boss? It’s Jane. We’s goin’ to Mordin.”

He stopped dead in his tracks. “She’s hit? Are you pinned? Thought the hostiles were terminated. I’m coming hang...”

“No. They’re all dead….”

“The hell you lookin’ at boy?! You gonna get her outta here or what?” Krul bellowed. There was a squealing sound of damp boots running across a smooth surface before the batarian’s voice returned. “She saved our asses. We’d be dead if it weren’t for her. I was gonna have the women run for it, buy them time with our lives, when that crazy kid charged.”

“I’m on my way, nearly there. How bad is it? And how the hell did she even fight?”

“Biotics. Why the fuck didn’t anyone tell me she’s biotic?”

“That doesn’t answer my question! How bad is it?”

“I’m not a fuckin’ doctor! How the hell should I know? But I’m guessing she has an inhibitor chip? Now I’ve seen some shit in my day, but I never witnessed someone use biotics like that with one. That kid’s insane.”

“Damnit. How about the rest of you? Any injuries?”

“We’re fine, a few scratches.”

“Alright. I’m on my way to The Gozu District, going to make sure the way’s clear for them.” Garrus scaled the nearest building, surveying the path towards Mordin’s clinic.

“Who was that asshole? Did he get away?”

“He’s gone. They were Blood Pack. That krogan is a freak of nature, his regen is off the charts.”

“Fuck.”

“Looks like we got their attention… a little too well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to post this a bit early. There's a massive storm rolling in and the area around us was evaced. We're up on a hill so we should be fine but we'll probably be without power again.


	58. Sounds of Desperation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Placing a 'disturbing' warning on this chapter.

**AML Amstridian 2170 CE  
** **Hours After Mindoir Raid  
** **Jane Shepard**

Her father, dead. Her brother, dead. What had become of ma? Where were they taking them? Frantic fingers clawed at her palms. The ship was dark, cold. If not for the whimpering and rattling against the cages, it’d be silent too. What were those things? Monsters? Aliens? She had seen an Asari before. These things looked nothing like the blue, beautiful woman who hosted reading time at school. Did Miss M'lona die too? Or was she here somewhere, hidden by the blackness?

The little kindergartner from school was sobbing in her lap. Talitha. That was her name. Jane saw her before, many times in fact, during recess. She used to follow her and her friends around like a puppy, always nosing in their business. Now she clung to her waist as if she were the only real thing in the universe. Maybe it was true. Maybe none of it was real. Maybe this was just a bad dream and she’d wake any moment. Then she’d look down at the bite on her leg, still bleeding, still hurting. _You don’t feel pain in dreams Jane. This is real and you have to get out of here._

Jane shifted, trying to untangle herself from Talitha. The creatures that dragged them here were gone. It was now or never. She breathed deep, focused. _I can do this._ The blue glowed around her, warm energy, a light in the darkness. Suddenly, silence overtook the cargo hold. Every pair of terrified eyes were on her. A click, a snap, and the prison door gave way.

“What are you doing? Are you crazy? They’re going to catch you!” That was Vinny. He was older, bossy. But a big kid. They needed a big kid right now.  
  
“I’m getting out of here!”

“There’s no where we can go!”

“You want me to leave you in that cage?” Her whisper grew shrill, desperate.

Talitha followed her out of the crate, to the open floor. The whites of her eyes glowed against biotics as the child tried to wrench herself away. “A Door! Door!”

“If you idiots open that we’ll all be dead.” Vinny spat desperately against the bars. “We’re on a ship in outer space!”

“Then we fight them. I.. I have biotics. And didn’t you hunt with your dad? Maybe we can ….”

“Shh! Someone’s coming.” An unidentified voice echoed in the darkness.

Jane grabbed Talitha and flew back into their cage, fastening the door behind them.

A pair of large, man-looking monsters strode across the floor, barking at each other. Their harsh voices made thunking sounds in her brain. Every time they spoke it was too low, as if their voices fell into the gutter and couldn't get out. The noises terrified her to her very core.

They circled the deck, picked up a few objects in the back, and left. Jane scrambled back out of the cage the second she heard the elevator depart. “They’re not bringing us anywhere good. We’re being kidnapped! We have to try.”

As she busied herself opening the various locks, small bodies poured out of their enclosures. Children’s voices began erupting all around her.

“I’m in! They might eat us.”

“Or lay their eggs in us.”

“What!?”

“I saw it in a movie! That’s what aliens do. They kidnap humans to lay their eggs.”

“That’s rubbish. I’ve been to the citadel. There’s lots and lots of aliens no one lays eggs.”

“Maybe these ones do!”

“Some aliens lay eggs. I’m in 7th grade and we took xenobiology last term.”

“Oh Jesus.”

“I can’t move my leg. I can’t move my leg! Don’t leave me behind.”

“Someone grab Tim and hide him behind those boxes!” Jane whispered into the darkness. Shortly after, the scraping sound of jeans against a hard floor filled the emptiness.

“What are these things? Anyone know?”

“Does it matter?”  
  
“Maybe they’re mutants like The Hulk.”

“No way. They have four eyes.”

“I think they’re batarians.”

“What’s that?”  
  
“My dad said they’re really, really bad people.”  
  
“My daddy’s dead.” Another voice wailed.  
  
“Shut up!” Their voices joined simultaneously in a chorus that was loud enough to make the entire group freeze in terror.

“Shit think they heard that?”

“Stop crying! All our parents are dead. And we will be too if we don’t figure this out.”

“Quick we need to open these boxes. Maybe they have weapons inside.” To Jane’s immense relief, Vinny took charge, passing out several crowbars that he’d found scattered. The sound of crates being pried open echoed across the deck. “Wait, throw your shirts on the crowbars to muffle it.”

Box by box, small hands worked frantically. Wood creaked against rebar.

“Miss M'lona’s here! She’s here! She can help us!”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s not moving!”

“Miss M'lona? Miss M'lona?”

The asari’s head lolled to the side, bits of purple goo dribbled from her mouth. “C’mon. Let’s go. She’s not well.”

“We can’t just leave her here!”

“I’ve got her arms. The rest of you help with the legs, we’ll hide her behind the crates with Tim.” Vinny ordered.

More scraping followed. But Jane was completely occupied with the treasure she’d just uncovered. “Come here quick! I found… I found guns. And… I think this is a grenade.”

“Oh thank god.” Vinny sprinted over and began taking an account of the weapons. After a few minutes, he passed them out. “They’re loaded. I can’t believe it but they’re loaded. Alright, I want everyone to hide behind the crates and aim for the elevator. The moment they set foot on this deck we shoot and shoot and shoot until every last one is dead.”

And so they waited. It felt like an eternity passed before the whir of the lift caught their attention. “Alright. This is it. Don’t forget to breathe and the second…..” Vinny started.

A shot went off somewhere in the darkness. If there was ever a silent feeling of hope draining out of the room, this was it.

“OH SHIT.” The small voice frantically cried.

Jane felt Vinny’s body go rigid next to her. Now the monsters knew of their ambush, they’d be here any moment, and they’d be prepared. The children exchanged a look of horror before the older boy calmed himself enough to speak.

“No turning back now. Pick the gun back up and be ready to shoot.”

“I-I-I’m so scared.” A trembling voice answered.

“Hide then! They’re gonna be here any second.”

There wasn’t even a fight. When the doors hissed open, electrostatic grenades were tossed across the deck. Small bodies thudded to the floor before they even knew what was happening. All except Jane however, she called the blue, surrounded herself in it, and felt the crackle of electricity merely kiss her skin. She pulled the pin, the same way they did in those action movies Jimmy loved, and lobbed a grenade towards the beasts. Only, the one who constantly barked at the others, the largest, had blue of his own. He encased the grenade in a bubble and they watched helplessly as it exploded within. Seeing that they lost, Jane fell to the ground pretending to be incapacitated.

* * *

They were on their knees now, hands behind their heads. A cold metal barrel was pressed against her cheek.

The large, burly monster brought an orange, glowing screen to his face. “Which one of you orchestrated this escape?”

They talk. Of course they can talk. They have a space ship and were speaking earlier, she just didn’t understand. They’re intelligent. What had she been thinking? She did it now. They were going to kill her for this. Panic welled in her throat. Vinny’s eyes flicked to her, a silent, slow shake of his head. _He wants me to stay quiet?_

“I’ll ask one, last, time. Who got you out of the cages? I’ll find out in the end. We’re either doing this the easy way or the hard way. But I’d rather not damage the merchandise.”

When no one spoke up, he relented. “Fine. Have it your way.” He motioned to his men and as they moved away, he spun on his heel and hurled a shocking amount of blue in their direction. Three little bodies were sent hurtling across the deck.  
  
“Alright. Not one of them. Collar and cage ‘em.” The monsters obeyed, dragging the kids away and locking them in with new jewelry around their necks.

They were testing for biotics. _Just breathe._ _Don’t look guilty._ _Just breathe._

Three by three, the children were thrown under close scrutiny. And three by three they were collared and caged. When they arrived at her, Jane stole one last look Vinny’s way, mouthed ‘goodbye’ and closed her eyes. But the toss never came.

“It was me!” Vinny shouted. “It… it was me.”

_What the hell was he doing? Was he crazy?_

Large, thick boots slammed against the steel floor, halting in front of the boy. It picked him up by the shoulders and shook violently. Despite the lack of powers, it seemed half convinced that Vinny was responsible.

“It was me sir.”

“Looks like we have a hero among us. How old are you?”

“Thirteen.”

“Good. Good. Right age.” The monster turned to face the rest of the children. Eyes narrowed. “And let this be a lesson to the rest of you. I want no more trouble on this ship. This is what happens to those who disobey.”

He grabbed Vinny by the collar and roughly pressed his orange machine to the back of his head. Hair fell to the ground in clumps. At first, Jane thought they were merely shaving him. And she breathed a sigh of relief. Yet, when the sharp smell of antiseptic floated across the deck, something inside of her recoiled.

They poured the liquid onto the back of his head and brought a sharp blade to the base of the skull. He shrieked like a wild animal caught in a trap as they sliced through flesh and chiseled bone. She desperately pressed forehead to knees, curling into herself trying to escape, to not hear or see. Her insides heaved, oatmeal and jam coated her feet. She stared at the mess, shaking in disbelief – the seemingly bright, spring morning bearing down on her.

_“No reading at the table.” Her father gruffly snatched the book she’d buried her nose in. “After we finish the morning chores, I want you and John to clear out the barn. We’ll have two laboring cows soon and we need the extra space.”_

_“Yes sir.”_

_She could practically feel her brother snickering at her from the side._   
  
_After their father finished his coffee and left for the bathroom, she kicked Jimmy from beneath the table._

_“Hey!”_

_“Deserved it.”_

_“You’re always getting in trouble. Just read after and your life will be ten times easier. Not that it isn’t fun to watch.”_

_“I haaaate being bored. And mealtime is booooooring.”_

Had that really been today? Already, it was another world. Another life.

“Gimme the chip.”

The monsters were putting some silver, square object in Vinny’s head. He’d stopped struggling at least, eyes half open, staring at nothing, as if he were dead. Silently, Jane prayed that he was. If he were dead and gone, he wouldn’t be feeling this. They were sewing now, stitching together what they’d broken.

What came next was far more chilling than anything she’d seen yet. The monster brought up his orange gizmo and with the press of a button Vinny came to life. But there was no recognition behind the eyes. His stare was dead, empty. And when the man-beast spoke into his contraption, Vinny’s mouth moved in tandem, lips contorting around the strange, alien words.

“See? It’s not hard if you’ve actually completed that chipping course. Morons without experience shouldn’t attempt it though, devalues the merchandise if not done right. Work smart not hard.” He spoke calmly, as if Vinny were an object scarcely worth his time.

Hatred burned through her. Legs moved without direction. And before she realized what was happening, she had strode across the deck, tears streaming, to stand directly in front of Vinny.

“What did you do!? What did??? Vinny? Vinny look at me!” It wasn’t until both hands were clamped around his shoulders, trying to shake him awake that she saw it. The blue. Her whole, entire body was glowing blue.

“Well, I’ll be. The runt has teeth.”

She swallowed hard. The thing was approaching her, lips turned upward – almost as if he were smiling. But all she saw were hundreds of needle-sharp teeth. “Radio the Datmar Facility, tell them we have a potential. And get me a sedative. There’ll be no more trouble from her.”

Suddenly, rough, immovable hands dragged her away. She shrieked. Bit. Gnashed her teeth against metal armor. It was no use. Then she lashed out with the blue, remembering how, remembering Wilkie and his broken leg whimpering in a ditch. Focused, determined. One of the monsters flew backwards.

The big one roared with laughter. “Oh she’ll fetch an extravagant price.”

Someone grabbed her arm, pressed a needle through skin, and the world before her vanished.


	59. My Heart Keeps Beating, Beating Like a Little Drum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another 'disturbing' warning for this chapter. However, this fic has dark and gritty elements throughout the entire thing. So, read at your own discretion.

**2170 CE One Week Post Mindoir Raid  
** **Jane Shepard  
** **Datmar Facility, Kar’Shan**

Everything was cold. Thick leather straps bound her to the table, a paper thin gown was all that covered her shivering body. The smell of antiseptic and wrongness emanated from every corner of the sterile, white room. The monsters approached, barking at one another, holding up their terrifyingly large needles.

A sharp jab. The liquid burned through her veins. She cried out, cried for her mother. But Jane knew no one would come. Her family was dead. And she was alone far, far away from everything she had ever known. They lifted a knife. Were they killing her too? She screamed and thrashed to no avail yet before the blade made contact, a feeling of warmth spread from her buttocks up her back. Then the smell. Pee. They glowered, clearly angry. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please don’t...”  
  
It didn’t matter.

They cut each arm, and pulled them from her sides. As the blood drained into glass tubes, she began trembling fiercely, now wet. The urine had lost its heat. A wet gown clung to her sides as an icy reminder.

All she wanted was go home, where it was snug, safe. To her mother, and her softness. Her brother and his stupid jokes that never made any sense, especially to a dumb little kid. She even missed her dad, his stern frown whenever she did bad things. She closed her eyes, summoning bright summer days, summoning home – shelter from this cold, stark room of monsters.

“ _Oh yea? Watch this!” The earth beneath her feet was nothing but a blur. She gripped the rope with renewed purpose. It oscillated with abandon over the waterfall before returning to solid ground. There was no turning back now. When it swept over the deep pool once more, she let go and hurtled into the depths._

_Jimmy was still at the top, looking every bit like a scared little boy and not the supposedly brave teenager he claimed to be._

“ _Chicken.” She teased._

“ _Just because I’m not crazy….” He started.  
  
“Chicken. Gonna get shown up by a little girl?” _

_That did it. He ran towards the waterfall’s edge and dove in. While giggling like a loon, Jane splashed his face the moment he re-emerged. He reciprocated in kind until Wilkie decided they were at risk for drowning and dragged them both to shore._

_They panted in tandem on the rocky bank._

“ _Wanna go again?” Jimmy grinned._

“ _Hell yes!”_

_“Don’t let ma hear you talk like that.”_

“ _Hell ain’t a bad word.”  
  
“Or that.” He snorted.“You’ve been hangin’ out with the Peterson twins again haven’t you?”_

“ _No!” Jane exclaimed, knowing her brother caught her thinly veiled deceit. The Peterson boys were loads of fun. Just last week they had a grand adventure past the corn fields, deep into the forest, where they discovered an abandoned barn. Technically, they weren’t supposed to leave their farm’s perimeter. But there were places to explore! Things to see! The Peterson twins knew all the best, sneaky paths. And there were loads of dead things to poke with a stick inside the barn, the possum was of particular interest. It had a long, ratty tail and bunny teeth._

“ _Hope you lie better than that when pa asks you.” Jimmy scaled the rocks beside the waterfall with a newfound ambition. And Jane raced after, shrieking and giggling as she clawed her way up._

But the monsters killed them all, made them choke and bleed and die. Why was she here? Why were they doing this? What did they want? They asked no questions just poked and cut and bled.

They were evil. That much she understood. And she needed to break free, disappear. She had to wait and sneak, figure something out. _Your plan failed back on that ship. You failed and got Vinny ….._ Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill over. She was just trying to escape, help her friends escape. What was she supposed to do? Wait in that cage after the monsters killed all their families? Had it been days or weeks? The last thing she saw when they loaded her onto that ship was Mindoir burning.  
  
Her breathing became uneven, gasping. The tiny chest of a child, rapidly rising and falling. She panted. She swallowed. She had something special. Right? The blue. Only now, the monsters knew her secret.

Hours passed, strapped to that frigid table. Eventually they hosed her down, bandaged her arms, and carried her from the white, desolate room. As the smell of antiseptic retreated, new scents replaced it. Smells of strange food, urine, and stale air. They brought her down a long, narrow corridor lined with compact rooms. Rooms with bars for doors. _Prison cells_. Her destination opened with the creak of rusty hinges and she was unceremoniously tossed inside.

At first she thought she was alone. Yet, when her eyes adjusted to the darkness, a small figure huddled in the corner materialized. Whatever it was, wasn’t much bigger than her. A child perhaps. Jane wobbled to her feet. “Hello?”

The tiny body turned around and she jumped back. A monster. A small one, but still a monster. Four jet-black eyes stared at her. Jane’s gaze darted to its arms, they too were bandaged right below the shoulders, red blotches stained poorly taped gauze. The figure was trembling, its face wet. Do monsters cry too?

There were bunk beds to the side, a toilet and sink directly across. Yet, very few blankets. Certainly not enough to keep her warm throughout the night. She was so cold, so tired. Even her bones felt exhausted. Maybe that’s why she did it, after what she endured, the heavens knew she wasn’t overtly friendly to these things. Despite her misgivings, Jane snatched the covers and inched over to the child-monster. When she was convinced it wasn’t plotting an ambush, she perched tentatively next to it, watching and waiting.

They sat staring at one another for awhile. Eventually, the four-eyed one brought a hand to her chest and pointed.  
  
“Balya.”

She didn’t answer at first, choosing to remain silent. The little thing seemed to grow impatient. Five fingers wrapped gently around her wrist and brought the palm of her hand to its chest. “Balya.” She could feel the thump of a heart beat, its breath in and out, so much like her own.

“Jane.” She finally responded.

Balya’s lips curled upwards. The expression was similar enough, a smile. Only this one didn’t chill her to the bone like when the monster on that ship grinned at her. There was something softer about Balya. Something familiar. Without another word, they huddled together, enduring the cold was easier with a warm body next to you.

Days, maybe weeks, passed in similar fashion. Small terms. Big fear. Jane learned Balya’s words for objects in their room. The larger monsters came and went. Thankfully, neither one was taken from their cell and dragged back to the white room. If Balya’s injuries were any indication, she had endured the exact same experience while there.

After witnessing Balya peeing sitting down, Jane assumed she too was a girl. Oddly enough, everything that happened to herself happened to Balya as well. The injections. The pills. And neither one went to the monsters willingly. Whenever their cell door creaked open, they sought each other out, clinging to one another. Eventually, she stopped seeing Balya as a monster. She became a companion, the only light in the gloom.

Then the day came when the monsters arrived in a pack. They moved for Balya, little hands reached for hers and she took them. Hugged her friend tight. And wailed as they dragged her off. Days passed while she sat alone in her cell. Missing the absence of her warmth, hands the same size as hers pointing and teaching all the new words, slowly bridging the gap between them. At night, they’d sleep side by side, keeping the cool air at bay.

It felt like ages had passed before they finally brought her back, a languid, sleepy puddle. Her mannerisms reminded Jane of a soggy shoe. Four eyelids drooped as they blinked lazily from the bed. Hours passed without change. She banged on the walls and screamed until one of the monsters came, his voice gruff. Jane pointed to Balya, something was wrong with her. She hadn’t moved. Hadn’t eaten. And her skin was freezing. The man said something she didn’t understand and turned to leave. Yet, she had learned a few words, not many but a few.

“Iinaha barida! La taeam.” (She’s Cold! No food.)

The thing? Man? Looked at her for a moment. At first she didn’t dare hope, but it was almost as if he understood. Shortly after, he returned with a cup of thick, warm liquid and a heavy blanket. She dragged both over to the bed where Balya lie, threw it on top of her and helped the little girl drink from the mug.  
  
Gradually her friend came back to her. Inch by inch, Jane nursed her back to health. Whatever the monsters had done must have been terrible. She tried not to think about the fact that they’d probably come for her too. After all, what happened to one always seemed to happen to the other. She didn’t understand why, Balya was one of them. But it was abundantly clear, they were in this together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to write as much as possible before I finish healing and get this boot off. I have a laundry list of tasks waiting for me. So, new chapter ahead of schedule.


	60. The Three Headed Watchdog

The mind of a child rapidly makes connections. Neurons fire in nanoseconds, absorbing and adapting in ways an adult could only dream to achieve. Mere months passed before Jane was fluent in their odd, alien language. Her lips contorting to meet their words’ phonetic demands.

Balya was pointing out the window excitedly babbling about babaghas – Kar’Shan’s version of parrots. They shared a mutual fascination with animals yet the ones on Kar’Shan seemed like accidents of evolution to Jane. Beautiful but foreign. Everything on the jungle planet was brimming with vibrant color and these parrot-things were no different. Four wings, brilliantly bright like a blazing fire, their long, feathered tails a mix of yellows and reds. As they dove into the river for fish, Jane couldn’t help but think they looked like bombs – pretty, fearsome things.

Yet, fear gradually lost its edge. Smoothed over by time, eroding who she once was. She learned the words for teacher and that the batarians considered this prison to be a school. A biotic school they’d call it. Each child a cog in the machine of The Hegemony. Each serving a greater purpose.

Morning greeted them with vivid, fluorescent lights that popped on at exactly o-five hundred. Their glaring brightness was always followed by an obnoxious alarm, it would echo across the cement, pounding against ears. Balya and her would stand for role call. Walk hand in hand to the locker room, preparing for their daily trials where they’d run until they puked. Slowness got you the switch. Weakness got you the switch. Tripping got the literal snot beaten out of you. But she adapted. Learned to run past the agonizing stitches, to gasp in tandem with her steps, to leap across obstacles in her path. And eventually, after years of brutal training, how to use biotics to thrust herself across lengthy spaces. Crossing distances in seconds that would have taken minutes to sprint.

Despite her circumstances, there were certain aspects of her new life that she enjoyed. Demolition duty was particularly rewarding. They’d be deployed to the ruin of a city where long abandoned sky-scrapers were slowly being engulfed by verdant green. The wilds always reclaimed what belonged to it. Her and Balya would line the rubble with explosives, retreat, and watch the fruits of their labor.

She cherished those days, free of their dismal cell. The sun warming her back as it had working side by side with her father and brother in the fields.

Jane grew to consider these batarians kinder than the ones who raided Mindoir, or perhaps, with time, she simply understood. Bonded to their coarse nature. By meeting their demands, her life became easier, the harsh beatings and strange, ritualistic cutting were muted with hot meals and soft blankets. They had intention behind everything. Words like ‘necessary’ and ‘for your own good’ became commonplace. What they wanted was for her to grow powerful. For Balya to grow powerful. So they could use them in wars, to fight and kill on demand. At first, the notion scared her. Yet, time and severe routines whittled away dissent, made her mind smoother, colder. They were being molded instead of murdered, strengthened not broken. And one day, she came to understand that those were not the harshest lessons.

The cruelest, she learned, was the truth. That above all else, humans were no better. And no one was coming to save them. A grim lesson and one she wouldn’t soon forget.

The first time she saw grown humans in Datmar, she was a foolish little girl. They descended like angels from on high, familiar sights with neatly pressed uniforms. Their clean, trimmed hair and bright eyes, emboldened her. Hope didn’t merely trickle in, it poured out of her very soul.

“Balya!” Jane could scarcely contain her joyful shriek. “Balya look!”

The patter of bare feet against concrete followed. Only when her friend reached their cell’s threshold, she yanked Jane backwards and pushed her into a darkened corner. A finger to her lips. Jane watched, perplexed at her friend’s reaction. _These were adult humans! They were saved! What was her problem?_

“What the hell? We have to let them know we’re here.”

“They buy humans.” Balya’s tone was flat, dull. “I dunno who they are, or where the kids go, but we never see them again.”

Jane pushed past her friend and peered through the bars, watching the humans’ torsos bob and sway as they strode down the corridor. Each wore a symbol on their uniforms. An orange, warped hexagon with symmetrical wings on the sides. The base shape looked as if someone hung too many coats on it, stretching and elongating it past its natural form.

“Please.” Balya’s harsh whisper grew frantic. Little hands pulled desperately at her shirt. “I was alone for… forever before you. I don’t wanna be alone again.… p-please just hide with me.”

Truthfully, she didn’t believe Balya. Not entirely. But there was a familiar tone of desperation in her protests that caused Jane to take a step back. They oriented themselves in such a way that they could peer through the bars while remaining hidden.

After that, she didn’t have to believe. The human-monsters showed their true colors. When one of the guards opened a cell, the humans emerged dragging two girls by their hair. They tossed them into shipping containers like they were nothing. Her stomach plummeted. _They were human –_ _ **human**_ _. How could they do this?_ She was older now, had seen the depths of cruelty. And knew the ramifications of shipping something alive across space in nothing but a box.


	61. The Ramblings of a Child Soldier

As the anesthesia lightened, Jane’s dreams became fragmented. Little pieces of time, fractured windows to her past, ebbed and flowed. Balya was so close it was as if she could reach out and touch her. For years, they shared a cell, growing and fighting side by side. They were more than friends. They were family. And one brooked no threat to the other.

Jane was twelve the first time she killed a man. Initially, when they had him cornered, she thought he was a pathetic thing retching in the thick Kar’Shani mud. Already beaten. Balya by her side, an enemy directly in front, she didn’t hesitate. Blue surged, whipping around her entire form, when he sent out a shock of electricity. It cut off her biotics in an instant. Her knees buckled. A knife, skillfully thrown, hit her square in the shoulder, sinking deeply into the tender flesh.

Then he was flipping above her, beyond her – honing in for his own kill. Balya tossed him to the ground like a rag doll. And Jane lashed out, snapping his neck with her blue.

The pair stared absently at the body for a moment. It was the first time they’d killed something with more than animal intelligence.  
  
Jane couldn’t help but realize how easy it had been, this thing she dreaded.

Blood formed rivulets down her arm, dripping into the soil. Red and brown. Muck and plasma.

Balya pointed at her wounded side, grinning the way she did when one of her weird ideas popped up. She brought a switch-blade to her palm, pressing it into her thick, brown skin. “Gimme your hand.”

When Jane obliged, reaching toward her, Balya brought their palms together. “We’re blood sisters now. Bonded in battle.”

The image suddenly grew fuzzy, as if she were looking through a far-away lens. Light filtered through eyelids. Voices carried across the empty space.

“I’m not leaving!”

“Please Nalah. Too emotional. Can’t be her nurse.”

“Then I won’t stay as her nurse.”

There was a scraping sound. In her mind’s eye, Jane could almost see a metal chair being dragged to her bedside. But then it muffled, grew distant, and she drifted back to sleep.

* * *

“Which one are you gonna pick?” Balya sat cross legged on the floor directly in front of her, thumbing through a stack of pamphlets. Instruments of various sizes were depicted on colorful parchment.

“Something loud.” Jane leaned forward, peering at the selections.

“You would. Although, I suppose, we should choose something that meshes together well.”

“Maybe. They said it doesn’t matter much so long as we practice. We could probably pick drums and they wouldn’t bat an eye.”

“That’s what they _say_.” Balya punctuated the last word for emphasis. “But if it doesn’t create mind connections or whatever.”

“I know. I know. Always look for an edge.” Jane sighed. “Guess I should pick a complicated one then.”

“Something with strings, yeah. Think you could sing and play one of these at the same time?” She passed her pamphlets with human string instruments depicted on the front. “Might give you a leg up.”

They’d spent the entire day running the obstacle course, honing their blue to the ring leaders’ satisfaction. Bruised knuckles, skinned knees, and exhaustion hung over their room like a cloud. A few, scant photos were taped to cement walls. Jane’s drawings, embellished by Balya’s knack for paint, decorated every inch of the otherwise desolate room.

Most of the pictures were of animals observed during their ground-side missions to clear out pests. Of course, ‘pests’ on Kar’Shan were nothing like what Jane was used to. She expected rats, maybe a few wild dogs and steeled herself against the possibility of having to kill them. A man was easier to butcher than a dog. She’d never witnessed that cruel glint in an animal’s eyes. Their tendency towards violence was knowable. They hunted for food and only attacked when their pack was threatened. It was a sentiment she could relate to.

As it turned out, Kar’Shan was filled with abundant wildlife. There were snails the size of lions with sharp horns they’d use like a battering ram. And unlike the slugs she was accustomed to, these things moved like the wind, leaving a train of sickly goo in their wake. They also had enormous spiders. The batarians called them aleanakib. Jane really didn’t care what word they used for the creatures. Spiders the size of a house was an accurate enough description for her.

“The violin sounds good. I don’t want to play something huge.” Jane pointed to the pamphlet depicting a cello. “I’d have to lug it all the way to the gym for practice. And some of the violin vids have people plucking the strings while singing. I could trade off.”

“Hmm. Yeah. I see your point. In that case, I’m picking the tagelharpa. It’s a traditional batarian instrument. My dad had one.”

“Nice and spooky.”

Balya sucked in the air, a sly smile spread across her face as she dropped her voice to a mere whisper. “One day, I’m gonna scare the hell out of them.”


	62. Devil on My Shoulder

The memories sketched out, veering into the abyss, jagged glass against her consciousness.

She could feel sand and grime scraping between every toe. A pounding beat. The crowd cheering, roaring for her to kill.

She was in the pit, drugged to the gills. Every sense sharpened like a laser. Under the almost unbearably bright lights, Jane spotted a small figure. For the first time in a long while, she hesitated. Her mind scarcely grasped onto what was before her when the familiar burning jolted her back to reality.

She lunged, spurred forward by warm elation. A crash, her blue slammed into the earth, haptic feed back prickled at the palm of her hand. The foot she missed by millimeters was small. Her size? Normally they were grown. It didn’t matter. Kill or be killed was the only rule in the pits. And she had no plans to die.

The crowd whooped and hollered. Voices clamored, placing bets.

A precipitous pause. A consequential shock.  
Moving like liquid death  
Insipid wrath around her neck  
She dodged and weaved  
Charged, evaded  
A ragged breath  
Brown eyes of death

  
Jane woke on the bottom bunk, head throbbing like the wrong end of a battering ram.

“What the hell did they do to you?” Balya laid a cool cloth across her forehead. “You look like you fought a penaska.”  
  
“Y-y-you should s-s-see other guy.” Blood dribbled down her chin when she smirked.

* * *

* * *

Time was immaterial. Echos, trapped in a frozen world, blurred and mixed under the sedatives. Yet one memory stood out, replaying in her mind’s eye like a broken record. The argument that changed everything.

It was an average day, the sun’s rays, dimmed by the thick canopy, warmed her face. Jane, a few months past sixteen, bolted through the verdant web of green. What started out as a typical hunt, altered the course of their lives forever. They were tracking escaped POWs, flushing them out of the thick underbrush. Hot on the heels of a particularly troublesome fighter, the rush of blood pounded through her ears. She could practically taste the woman’s fear as they whizzed through the jungle in the blink of an eye.

They cornered her in the swamps when the woman attempted to dive into the murky water and escape. Jane caught her in a biotic hold, tossed her to shore and pounced – bringing the knife across her throat.

“WAIT!” Balya cried. Yet, the protest came too late. The woman gurgled at Jane’s feet, a river of blood washed over her boots.

“Damnit Jane. Could you maybe not be a complete psycho for one minute?”

“Now what? Going dark and whiny again?”

Balya scoffed. “Hardly.”

“What the hell is wrong with you lately? We kill The Resistance. That’s what we do. That’s what we’ve been doing since for-fucking-ever. Yet, suddenly you hesitate. It’s gonna get you killed. This is not the first ti….”  
  
“And that’s just.... it for you huh?” Balya retorted, voice venomous. “Nothing but survival matters? I’ve known you for a long time, I know there’s more to you than this. But I dunno. You’ve been a grade-A bitch ever since your tits came in. Maybe that’s just how it is with you now.”

Jane snorted “Your just jealous.”

“THEY BURNED DOWN A VILLAGE. AND WE HELPED. We were a part of it.”

Pieces from that horrible night filtered into the present, clashing against the humid air. It was the sounds that got her, screaming in every direction; a scant, faraway echo, but a reminder of Mindoir – the frantic shrieking, the smell of death.

Over the years, her vision narrowed to nothing but the threat directly in front of her. She was conditioned well. A shock for hesitating. Narcotics for attacking. Trained in the art of death, drugs softening the edges of her memory. Making it easier, more distant. The horror show was nothing more than a dream within a dream now.

Yet, Balya developed an intractable tolerance. For her, the memories were sharper, more defined. And it was taking its toll. Where Jane grew colder, hollowing out pieces of herself until there was nothing but an empty shell, a machine that killed without hesitation; Balya’s empathy knew no bounds. Guilt and shame ate at the girl, festering in the dark.

Jane winced under her scrutiny.

“I knew you care. You fucking care. And you’re lying about not giving a shit, pretending to be some big bad...”

“Of course I care!” Jane roared. “But you don’t get it. Okay? You’ve seen some shit sure. We both have. But you don’t know what it’s like to watch someone you love die right in front of you. Your parents were arrested. My redneck dad and wheezy ass brother tried to take on a small army. My dad’s head exploded at the end. Like a fucking melon. And my brother?” She was shaking now, tears streamed down her face. “They … beat him over and over and over again. There was blood everywhere. And even when he was face down in the mud, they just kept kicking him as if he wasn’t dead enough. WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?! To watch that happen to you too?”

Jane was vaguely aware that she’d melted into a puddle of snot and tears. “So, you’re right I don’t give a flying fuck about anything other than you. When it’s you or me we always choose each other. That’s how it’s always been.”

The entire atmosphere changed in an instant. Balya deflated and plopped onto the grass, groaning. “Well, if it helps, my parents were probably executed shortly after they brought me here.”

“Yeah. It really doesn’t.” Jane attempted to wipe some of the gunk from her face. She fell to the soft ground and they stared at the clouds for a time, lying side by side.

“We can’t keep going like this.”

“We don’t have a choice.” Jane sighed. “They’ll kill us if we try to escape.”  
  
“What if we can actually pull it off?”  
  
“Are you high? There’s no eluding The Hegemony. They’ll string us up the moment we set foot out of bounds. Besides we have nowhere to go.”

“The Resistance….” Balya started.

“In case you haven’t noticed, The Resistance has a knack for getting themselves killed. And I don’t want to run from one hellscape to another. They’ll just use us for our powers anyway, you know that.”

“At least we’d stand for something better. At least we’d have something worth fighting for.”

“Nothing’s worth fighting for if you’re alone.”

Looking away, Balya swallowed. “I’d rather die than do their bidding anymore.”  
  
Jane glanced at the burn marks around her neck, vestiges of her ongoing defiance. Sometimes a pang of self-awareness would hit her, unlike Balya, she never balked at orders. Embracing her newfound power kept them alive where others perished. But she was old enough to understand that it came at a cost. It chipped away at her soul. How long before she too became a monster? Or was she one already? Eighty-two never paused to consider who she was executing.

“You’re not hearing me.” Tears spilled out of all four eyes. “I’m done. I’m tired. And… and I’m done.” Desperation and misery were etched into every line on Balya’s face. “I have p-p-pills. If we can’t escape….”

“Suicide? That’s your damn answer?”

“It’s better than this.”

Jane rolled onto her back. From here, everything felt so peaceful. Clouds drifted by. Birds sang from faraway perches. “Freedom or death then?”

“Look, you don’t have to come with me.”

“If you go, I go. What is it we always say?”  
  
“Together until the end.”

“Together until the end. And you realize this will probably be our end right?”

“At least we’ll go down together.”

“That’s something. I guess.”

Nearly a year passed before another opportunity emerged. With The Hegemony looking over their shoulder, cornering a resistance member alone was no small feat. And convincing one that they were genuinely trying to escape, that it wasn’t some elaborate ploy, was virtually impossible. But their persistence paid off. After several risky, borderline suicidal, ventures to aid escapees; they earned one’s trust. In two months time, The Resistance would be camped not far from Datmar. It was their only chance.

She’d helped her – helped her find doom. Now the movement’s leader was trapped on Omega, his army crushed. And Balya with it.

Jane moved fitfully in her sleep, clutching the bed-sheets, as she searched the recesses of her mind for any hint of her.

Gentle pressure against her shoulder calmed the tide of memories. And she opened her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Penaska - Large cougar-like creatures native to Kar'Shan. They have long antennas above their eyes that are capable of electrical attacks. Very dangerous animals.
> 
> When correcting a few grammatical errors in chapter 56, I accidentally unchecked the 'notes' box without realizing it and erased the whole thing. Anyhow, the note is back up if you haven't read it and care to. (It's about a prevalent question regarding a certain romantic relationship.)


	63. Contorted Cognizance

For a moment she could recall her life on Mindoir in perfect clarity. The faces of her family. The smell of fresh hay in an Autumn breeze. Like butter from a knife, it slipped from her grasp, leaving nothing but smeared, blurry images. She strained. Constellations flickered between her fingers while the memories fled beyond reach.

As her eyelids cracked, a dark, static room greeted her. A three fingered hand on her shoulder was gently pressing, rousing her from the nightmare. She smiled at the feeling, knowing who it was.

Yet, the next thing she heard was Mordin’s shrill voice.

“Jane. Can speak? Try.”

She opened her mouth, it felt like she’d been munching on cotton furniture. The words stuck to the back of her throat. Half a second ago, she was certain Garrus had been there. Her eyes searched the room, spotting him taught against the far wall staring at his hands, mandibles clenched tightly to his face. Perhaps more time passed than she realized.

“Surgery a success. Just need to be sure facilities intact. Try to speak.”

“Mm‘fine. Is..it… is … it out?” Only one question burned at the back of her mind. That thing had been the bane of her existence for years.

“Yes. Yes. Inhibitor removal successful.” Mordin spoke while shining a blinding light directly into her eyeball. She peeked in Garrus’s direction the moment the spots cleared. He was mumbling into his com, clenching a rifle.

“Pupillary response intact. Communication intact. Will be fine. Will be fine.”

“Oh thank goodness. You gave us such a scare.” Nalah practically bubbled over. Following her gaze to Garrus, she continued. “There’s nothing to worry about hon. They’re only setting up extra security around the clinic. Everyone’s here in case that awful gang followed us. But you’re safe, we’re all safe.” The woman was stroking her hair, pulling random strands out of her face.

Jane sucked on an ice chip as Garrus retreated down the hallway. Before leaving, he nodded in her direction, announced his relief at her recovery, then left for more pressing matters. Asses to kick. People to interrogate. One thing she’d learned about the turian is that he had a zero tolerance policy for malicious intent towards his squad. There would be hell to pay for the attack.

* * *

After Garrus departed, it was just her and Jane. The young woman scarcely managed to keep her eyes open more than a few minutes before succumbing to the heavy sedatives. And Nalah settled in for the long haul.

Three days had passed since the ambush. Yet, she remained on edge. Watching Jane charge into enemy fire invoked something in her that she thought long dead. For just a moment, it felt as though she were witnessing one of her own racing towards certain death. She’d clutched at her chest, unable to breathe. That haunting despair didn’t merely resurface, it overthrew every bone in her body. Time and perspective muted things, but that gaping hole was a permanent, festering wound. A parent never recovers from their children’s passing. But Jane’s presence soothed her. Gave her a sense of purpose. She smiled to herself. Maybe it was she who needed Jane and not the other way round.

Jane’s newness to the galaxy made her seem innocent, even childlike. She asked the most basic questions, listening with rapt attention and wide, guileless eyes. Surrounded by tech she’d never encountered before – simple things such as modern light commands and omni-calling had been fantastical discoveries.

But after watching that small figure charge into a barrage of bullets, standing between men more than twice her size and certain death, she knew that this was no mere child. Lying in a hospital bed, the slip of a woman looked so small, so frail. It was a little awe-inspiring. Knowing the power that lurked in her, just beneath the surface.

* * *

Garrus stormed out of the clinic, intent on checking the latest patrol. Refusing to take any chances, he evacuated the base after the ambush. He and his men remained vigilant to any threats near the clinic. It was obvious the krogan sent spies to track his movement. And the last thing they needed was another surprise.

Ripper was leaning against a wall, cigarette in hand. When he emerged, the human stubbed the butt with his foot. “She gon’ be okay?”

“Yeah. Mordin says she’s out of the woods. Where’s Krul?”

“He at the pizzeria. Said you’s bein’ paranoid. Three days an’ no attack. No com chatter ‘bout The Pack neither. They’s ghosts.”

Garrus snorted. “He just wanted a slice. They’re most likely regrouping off station. Trust me, we haven’t seen the last of Garm. Like you humans say, I feel it in my gut. He’ll be back. And we’ll be ready.” Ripper’s gaze lingered on him for a moment too long, rankling against his hide. “What?”

“Been a bit tense boss.”

That was an understatement. The entire thing was his fault. He’d underestimated The Blood Pack and Jane, the one person who hadn’t signed up for any of it, paid the price.

To be honest, part of him was shocked. Sure they’d spoken several times now, and he’d grown to respect the young woman. Surviving what she had and coming out the other side took a level of strength few possessed. He’d probably be a jibbering, chipped lunatic were he in her shoes. Yet, he hadn’t the faintest clue that she cared enough to risk her life. A wave of guilt washed over him. The one time she asks him to watch her back and he fucks it up. Majorly.

“Let’s just say I want to be certain we’re never caught with our pants down again.”


	64. Blinding Lights

**Jane Doe’s Omni-Activity October 5 th – Present Day**

_(Search)_ **Turian society**

  * Article: Colonial Roots – The Strongest Military’s Humble Beginnings  


  * Article: Cipritine’s Educational System Receives Foremost Ranking from Hierarchy




_(Search)_ **Turian Culture**

  * Xenostudies 101 – Chapter 4:Turian Sense of Honor (downloaded PDF)

  * Documentary: Heart of Courage – Bleeding Blue (Watched Vid in Full: 2 hours 10 minutes)




_(_ _Search)_ **Turian body language**

_(Search)_ **Turian mandible movements**

  * How to Read Turian Facial Expressions (downloaded PDF)




_(_ _Search)_ **Turian sub-vocals**

  * Love and Bonding: A Maiden’s Handbook by Peoslia Edove of Good Morning Thessia (closed after 59 seconds)




_(Search)_ **Can** **asari have sex with everyone?**

  * Blog: Sluts of the Galaxy

  * Tammy Talk: Are Asari More Promiscuous as a Species?




_(Search)_ **Can** **asari have sex with all species?**

  * Vid: Hentai Foundry Rated XXX for Hanar Tentacle Action (Closed after 3 seconds. History deleted.)




_(Search)_ **WTF is wrong with people** (Entered ten times in quick succession. No links clicked on.)

_(Search)_ **Turian** **sub-vocals platonic**

_(Search)_ **What do turian sub-vocals mean** **to a human** **?**

  * Befriending Our Allies: An Alliance Guide to Turian Expressions (Downloaded PDF)

  * Article: Cross Species Strike Teams Gain Popularity by ANN




_(Search)_ **Turian language**

  * Palavoni for Beginners (Browsed 32 minutes. PDF not downloaded.)

  * Article: The Hierarchy’s Nullification of Turian Dialects  


  * Article: One Language to Rule Them All: An In-depth Study of the Unification War’s Cultural Genocide




Jane closed her omni-tool and rolled onto her back. Time was passing slowly. Once their home-base was secured, the team departed, leaving her bored and restless. Garrus came to visit on a daily basis however. Stumbling over his words, apologizing for putting her in danger in one breath and profusely thanking her for saving his squad in the next. The quixotic man claimed to be a terrible turian. Yet, Jane failed to see the truth in that statement. He came from a world where honor and self-sacrifice were paramount. Two words she’d use to describe him in a heartbeat. Although, she still struggled around him. His voice, a pleasant rumble to her ears, remained alien, its depths unknowable. There were subtleties in his vocal cords that escaped her understanding.

If someone told her that the alien trooper blasting through The Ubralle was on her side, she would’ve stabbed them in their lying face. And now it seems she made a friend?

At the very least, she’d made the list of people under his vigilant protection. Not that she had the faintest clue what to do with that knowledge. No one cared about her. No one alive anyway. The notion frightened her, made her want to stuff it down, hide it somewhere in the recesses of her mind until time washed away any traces. Caring about people meant being vulnerable. And vulnerable was a bad state to be in when the inevitable came to call.

She groaned in frustration, hit the morphine button, and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written to: Blinding Lights (Medieval Style) by Cornelius Link  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XbigmX35ICQ


End file.
